The Perilous Parturiency
by VillainousFunctioningDude
Summary: This story is extremely unhappy.
1. One

He promised me he wouldn't hurt them.

He saw through my attempt to circumvent the contract. I tried to sign the marriage certificate with my left hand, the non-dominant one. When I touched the nib of the pen to the paper, his large hand wrapped tightly around my wrist, hard enough to leave a burgundy bruise that I found later.

I felt something sharp against my side. Evidently, he had a knife pressed into me. Goosebumps appeared where the knife threatened to pierce my dress and skin. I saw his face get closer to me out of the corner of my eye. "Sign the fucking paper, Violet," he breathed into my ear. "And your brat brother and sister will be safe."

My heart withered at his promise. I glanced back to Klaus, his expression twisted with so many emotions: grief, anger, injustice.

Injustice.

As kind as she was, Justice Strauss proved herself useless right about now. She had been finagled into following the frustratingly simple marriage law: an "I do" from the woman in the presence of a judge and the marriage certificate signed with the bride's own hand. She watched me expectantly as I looked back to the damning paper.

My head went hot and my dress felt too scratchy all of a sudden. My fingers shuddering, I gave the pen to my right hand. On the line, I signed my name: Violet Baudelaire.

My vision blurred, and I felt a burning tear streak down my cheek. I was a Countess.

I stumbled back, my head spinning with these dizzying circumstances. I heard him begin rambling to the audience about how there was no need to finish the play: he had gotten what he wanted.

As the crowd grew upset and restless at the revelation, the smell of burning wood reached my nose. Despite the sweat rolling down my back, ice chilled my veins and my stomach turned to lead. There was a fire somewhere. I looked up to my towering now-husband; he was laughing.

"Where are your precious volunteers now?" he shouted maniacally to the audience.

I heard the dull roar of flames behind me, somewhere behind the stage. I realized that the heat I felt growing behind me was this voracious fire.

"Fire!" a man in the audience screamed.

Chaos erupted.

I was snatched up before I could catch my breath, my hands still clutching the pen and marriage certificate. Smoke stung my eyes and I squeezed them shut.

I would have sworn before her High Court that I heard Justice Strauss call out after me, "Violet! Klaus! I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

Before I knew what happened, I was shoved into the backseat of a car in between two people. I heard gasping and whimpering and coughing; it took me a few moments to realize that it was all my own.

"Shut her up!" my husband shouted. One of his henchpeople clasped my arms and someone's large, rough hand slapped over my mouth. My eyes, still burning, shot open.

The first thing I saw was Klaus as he stood outside the car being held fast by the person of indeterminate gender. His glasses were lopsided and, if the situation had been more happy, I would have laughed.

"Now, my Countess," my husband spat, his shiny eyes dark beneath his unibrow. He smiled predatorily, his yellowing teeth revealing themselves beneath his curling lip. "Say goodbye to your brother forever!"

"You can't keep us away from each other forever!" Klaus yelled. "Violet will escape! Sunny and I will escape from wherever you keep us! You won't win!"

A disgusting scoff escaped my husband's lips. He turned to me. "If she does, I'll kill you and your bitey sister. If you escape, I'll kill her." My husband waved a dirty hand in Klaus' face. "And, I've already won."

A crashing noise came from inside the burning theatre. Everyone turned to the building. "Now let's get the hell out of here." My husband gestured for the white-faced women and the person of indeterminate gender to take Klaus and Sunny (whom I could only assume was still suspended in the birdcage) to some unknown location.

The bald man kept his grip over my mouth until my husband got into the driver's seat of the car.

"You can't do this!" I shouted. "You won't get away with any of this!"

"Oh, my dear Countess," he sneered as he turned around to face me. "Like I said to your know-it-all brother: I already have." He then suddenly snatched away the marriage certificate that I had been clutching tightly.

I looked into his eyes, and I only saw truth. I felt nauseous as I truly saw that Olaf had won. His expression said it all: he had set the fire in the theatre to kill everyone who knew about my and my siblings' plight. He had separated us. He had married me, and now would have access to my fortune. Everything had fallen into place for Count Olaf.

xXx

Olaf threw his own reception at his rotten house, and as soon as they had delivered my siblings to their mysterious location, the rest of his henchpeople arrived to the party.

Olaf kept me within arm's reach the entire night as if to show me off. He flaunted me like a check that boasted a large amount of money, which was exactly what I was to him.

I suppose I was in shock, as I don't remember much of what happened after he brought me into the parlor. All I know is that for hours, I was made to sit upon Olaf's knee and bring him and his troupe food and drinks. Lots of drinks.

As the night wore on, he became more aggressive as he finished off one, then two bottles of vodka. His breath reeked, yet he constantly pulled me closer to himself.

"Boss, where will you go for your honeymoon?" the hook-handed man cackled.

Olaf downed yet another glass and sucked noisily on his teeth. "I must first go retrieve *my* fortune from the bank tomorrow. Then, once I do that, I can go wherever I want with my money," he laughed heartily.

"It's not *your* money," I countered. "It will be money that you've *stolen, but it will never be yours." At my argument, the room became very quiet as eyes darted back and forth between me and Olaf.

Olaf raised one side of his unibrow and clutched his empty glass, his knuckles turning white. Glaring, he pushed is glass into my hands. "Bring me the bottle this time, Orphan," he snarled.

As I stood once again, Olaf snatched my wrist and pulled me down to his face. "Another word out of you, and I'll give you a black eye so bad you won't be able to see out of it for weeks," he hissed. "Understand?"

I nodded hesitantly. He released me and I made my way to the kitchen to grab the bottle of remaining alcohol. I paused and looked up. Olaf was not looking. I could take a swig of the vodka to calm myself and he would never know. My mouth suddenly felt dry and I realized I was thirsty. I slowly brought the bottle to my lips.

"Orphan!" Olaf bellowed. I jumped and hurried back into the parlor. Olaf was staring at me, his arm outstretched.

I handed the bottle to him, and he snatched it from my fingertips. He kept eye contact with me as he then downed the rest of the vodka.

"How is my Countess feeling?" Olaf asked with fake concern. He clutched my chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulled me towards his face. "Is she tired?"

I blinked, suddenly feeling all of his henchpeople glaring at me. I looked to the floor.

"Countess?" he repeated darkly.

"I'm, um..." I started. I glanced up to see Olaf smiling devilishly at me.

"Too tired for words?" Olaf finished. He placed his large hand on my hip possessively. "Wanting to go to bed, are we?" He chuckled. "I think my bride is ready for our wedding night."

I froze, my pulse thudding in my ears. Of all the depraved things, this was not something I expected. I only thought he wanted to marry me for my fortune.

"What?" I asked, my voice thin.

Olaf laughed to his henchpeople at my confusion. "You didn't believe I would follow through with such a tradition?"

Everything in me screamed to run away. I looked around the room in desperation, but Olaf's troupe watched our interaction with perverted glee. I began to step away, but Olaf snatched my arm quickly and jerked me forward with his knee in between my legs.

"Why wouldn't I?" Olaf ran his hands firmly and slowly up my side and back. "You are exceedingly pretty. Any girl would be so lucky to be in your position with such a dashing actor willing to fuck them. Women have begged on bended knee for me to bed them. You should be thanking me," Olaf smirked.

The white-faced women harrumphed in unison, while the other henchpeople laughed.

He put his arm around my waist and pulled me flush against him. He reached up and began to stroke my hair.

"It's time for us to 'consume' our marriage, my Countess," he said. I could feel his sharp eyes on me.

Before I could stop myself, my lips formed the words, "It's 'consummate.'" Noise barely came out of my throat. I looked up at Olaf.

He screwed up his face in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

I looked down to my feet. "The phrase is 'consummate the marriage,' not 'consume,'" I repeated.

Olaf scoffed. "Go upstairs to my room, Orphan. Wait for me there," Olaf ordered me.

I didn't move.

"Did I perhaps not make myself clear, Orphan? Go to my fucking room!" Olaf bellowed as he stood, his voice slurring with the alcohol he imbibed.

I flinched and sprinted to the staircase, tripping on the first step in my haste. My ears burned hot as laughter chased me up the stairs.

Though I had never been there, I found Olaf's room rather quickly, as I had studied the layout of his house from doing chores. I opened the door to his room. I corrected myself—our room. I had to remind myself constantly that I was now his...wife. I wanted to vomit each time I thought myself married to Count Olaf, but at this moment, I wanted to vomit because of the disgusting state of the bedroom.

A musty, wet smell emanated from somewhere in the room. The peeling wallpaper was dirty with neglect. Nothing had been dusted or scrubbed for what I supposed had been years. Dirty clothes carpeted the floor and were strewn about on various pieces of furniture. Empty bottles littered the underside of the queen-sized bed, which had several mysterious stains on the cover. The mattress was without a cover sheet, and my skin crawled at the thought of lying down on the bed.

With a jerk, I realized I was about to do just that.

I had no idea what to do, so I simply stood in the centre of the room next to the bed.

After a long while, I heard the staggering steps of Olaf as he stumbled up the stairs. I wanted to hide. I wanted to run. I looked over my shoulder to the window across the room and even considered jumping out of it. If I lived, I could run. If I didn't...I wouldn't have to endure this already miserable marriage anymore.

The wiry figure of my husband appeared at the door and pushed it closed after he came in. He had a nearly-full bottle of whiskey in one of his hands.

Olaf sniffed and stumbled toward me, his leering eyes boring into my soul. He took a swig from the whiskey bottle.

"Undress," he commanded.

I looked down to my feet, wanting to melt into the floor. "I'm... 14," I murmured.

Olaf's face twisted. "What?" he snapped, leaning forward. His whiskey-haunted breath bombarded my senses.

I cowered further, but raised my voice. "I'm only 14—"

"That just means that once I take you, you'll be *my* Countess forever," Olaf sneered, his voice oily. "Now, take off your clothes, Orphan."

He flopped himself onto his dirty bed, careful not to spill his whiskey, even as drunk as he was.

I fiddled with the hem of my white dress, toying with the idea of dashing out of his bedroom and away from the wretched house.

I must have somehow let on that that was what I was thinking, because Olaf stated, "Don't bother trying to run. I locked the door and I have the key."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

"I don't want to repeat myself a third time, Orphan."

Just get it over with, and then he'll leave you alone* I lied to myself. A sudden burst of bravery seized my arms, and I found myself pulling my dress over my head. I removed my shoes and pantyhose, feeling the cold air brush my skin. I used my arms to cover myself, even my bra and panties.

Olaf chuckled. "Move your arms. I want to see my Countess."

I opened my eyes, glaring at him. His smug expression countered, but I tried not to falter.

"Don't get cocky, Orphan."

"Why should I do any of this?" Courage swelled in my chest. "I did what you said to keep my siblings safe. You have my fortune. What more do you want?"

Olaf's face darkened suddenly, and my courage was extinguished. I regretted everything I had said. He stood, his legs still unsteady from the drink.

"I want to break you, Violet," the way he spat my name was venomous. "I want to see you suffer under me as I burn your world to the ground. So l would suggest you do exactly what I say, because otherwise I would love nothing more than to gut your siblings like fish!"

He stalked closer to me, his eyes burning into me. He stood to his full height, causing me to feel small. My eyes burned with the threat of tears, but I couldn't let him see how he got to me.

Olaf threw back a gulp of whiskey, and I stared at the bottle. If I was going to do this, I wanted to be numb.

"Please, let me have a drink," I pleaded.

Olaf looked down at me in surprise before he laughed. "And waste my good whiskey on an orphan?"

I bit the inside of my lip. A tear betrayed me by falling down my flushed cheek. "It...it's going to hurt," I whimpered. In embarrassment, I clasped my hands and brought them down to cover my panties.

Olaf smirked and brushed back my long hair with his dirty fingers. "I know," he said with exaggerated fake concern. "But look at it this way." He snaked his free hand through my hair and yanked back sharply. I winced. "Aren't you lucky to be deflowered by the world's most handsome, amazing, talented, handsome, and brilliant actor?"

He tossed back the rest of his whiskey and threw the bottle on a pile of clothes.

Olaf's bony hands slithered down my back to the clasps of my bra and quickly unhooked it. He jerked the lingerie off of me and let it fall to the ground. I gasped and shut my eyes, not wanting to see his reaction.

I heard him hum deep in his throat before he hooked his finger around the hem of my panties and slid them down my legs. He made me step out of and away from my undergarment. As he stood back to his full height, his hands ghosted up my inner thigh and paused at my core. Olaf sighed as he hovered his fingers over my heat, barely wisping the pad of his index across my inner lips. I shuddered in disgust, and I looked up to see his lips parted slightly in desire at my movement. He seemed enraptured with my naked state. I desperately wanted to sink to the floor and crawl away to a corner in utter mortification, but Olaf took no notice to my discomfort. His hands continued their journey up my body. He flattened his palms and slid them over my belly and up to my small breasts. He took both of my nipples in between his fingers. He pinched them—hard.

I cried out beneath the sensation of pain and—to my chagrin—pleasure. I choked on a moan and screwed up my face.

A chuckle resonated from Olaf, who then pulled me closer to him. I felt his hardness against my stomach and tried to pull back.

Olaf yanked me back and slammed his lips against mine in a disgusting kiss. His hand came up to cup my face as he caressed my cheek. His tongue wormed its way past my lips and into my mouth. I nearly gagged, as he was a wet kisser. He tasted overwhelmingly like all different kinds of alcohol mixed with his horrible halitosis.

I pulled away and gasped for breath.

"Oh, smile, my Countess," he said, brushing his thumb against my lips. He bent his thumb against my lower lip, slowly prying my mouth open. I wanted to gag, but the shock of his actions stilled me. "You're far too pretty to be frowning all the time."

He smiled villainously at me and cocked his head. "Undress *me, Orphan."

He grabbed my hands and brought them to his shoulders. I pushed off the sport coat he wore and unbuttoned his rather dirty shirt.

I tugged the fabric down, and he let it fall off of his shoulders. I turned my attention to his pants. I swallowed hard, a lump of despair lodged in my throat. I hesitated for a moment. Then, my thoughts strangely went to Klaus and Sunny. They would both be safe if I did this. Wasn't that worth it? Klaus would disagree and insist that he would figure a way out. Sunny would scream in her baby talk that Olaf was nothing but a sorry bastard who deserved a good kick in the balls. But I owed it to my parents to keep my siblings alive. I owed it to Klaus and Sunny. They shouldn't have to suffer just because I didn't want to.

Resolve washed over me as I set to the task of undoing my husband's trousers. They fell to the floor, unveiling his erection as it was straining against his boxers. I wanted to look away.

"Come on, now, Orphan. Don't be a tease," Olaf hissed. "I know I'm a fine specimen." Olaf gestured to his cock.

"I can't—" I choked involuntarily.

Olaf growled throatily and grabbed me by my arms and practically threw me into his bed. In one swift motion, he crawled on top of me and pinned my shoulders against the mattress.

"Please don't do this," I begged, holding my arms against my chest in an effort to cover myself.

Olaf pressed his face toward mine. "You would deny your husband his wedding night?" He pushed his boxers down, exposing his erect penis. "You're being selfish, you filthy orphan."

Olaf spat onto his hand and lubricated his member with it. He spread my legs apart with his knees. "Now don't move, Brat, and maybe it won't hurt as bad," he ordered.

"No-!" I braced myself quickly, but nothing could prepare me for his roughness. He pushed himself unceremoniously into me. I screwed my eyes shut in pain. I was sure I felt something tear inside me from the sudden presence of the large girth of his member. I cried out, tears spilling from my eyes and my whole body tensing.

He moaned breathily, his eyes shut in euphoria. He laughed. "You've got such a tight little cunt, my Countess," Olaf grunted. "Perhaps your fortune isn't the only thing you're good for."

Another sob escaped my lips, words barely forming: "Olaf, please!"

Olaf pulled out of me briefly before he thrust himself in me again. He did this again and again, each time hurting just as bad as the first.

My mind started to go numb, and my hearing became distorted. I knew my mind was trying to save me by forcing me unconscious, and part of me wanted to let myself slip into that void. I wanted to let go, but every time I tried, I was interrupted by the force of Olaf's thrusts.

His gruff voice pulled me back to reality. "Fucking Christ, Orphan," he growled as he pounded into me even harder.

I didn't want to look at him. I didn't want to see his face and how he felt. I looked straight up to the ceiling, praying that it would all be over soon. Fat tears dropped from my eyes, tracing down around my clenched jaw.

I felt him start to lose his fast rhythm as his thrusts became harder and more erratic. Grunts came from his throat as he hunched over my body. Olaf grabbed a fistful of my long hair and pulled down into the bed. He cried out, "Fuck!", before burying his head in my neck and biting fiercely onto my shoulder. I shrieked in surprise and pain. Olaf convulsed and came within me, thrusting his hot seed further into me. With a shard of fear ripping through me, I remembered that there was no protection between us.

Olaf collapsed on top of me, his chest heaving with deep breaths.

I let my head fall to the side, more tears soaking the pillow beneath my head. For the first time in my life, I truly wanted to die.

Olaf began to raise himself up. "Jesus," he whispered. He stopped and looked at me. He took my chin between his thumb and his forefinger and turned my head to face him. He glowered possessively in my eyes. He pressed his lips against mine before examining my puffy, tear-stained face. He smirked as he trailed one of his bony fingers down my cheek and over my bottom lip. "Now," he muttered. "You belong entirely to me, Violet Baudelaire."

He got up off the bed and took a dirty shirt from the floor. He cleaned his now limp member and threw the fabric at me.

I sat up, wincing from the soreness. I looked at the shirt; red stained the dingy white shirt. I looked down between my legs and saw my thighs and the mattress smudged with my blood. My eyes widened in shock and fear.

"I'm... I'm—" I started.

Olaf snorted. "Good thing it's on your side." He stepped back into his discarded boxers.

I looked up at him. "I'm sleeping here...?"

Olaf made a face at me as he got back into bed. "Husbands and wives always sleep in the same bed. I thought you would know that, Orphan."

Lowering my head, I looked at the soiled shirt in my hands.

Before he turned on his side, he said back to me, "Unless you want to be cold all night, you should put that on. There's only enough cover for one." Olaf pulled a quilt off of the floor and wrapped it over him. "Sweet dreams, *my* Countess," Olaf bade me, sarcastically.

As I opened up the rumpled shirt in my hands, I wanted to be sick. He wanted me to wear a shirt that had cleaned away the evidence of his taking of my virginity. I threw the shirt to the floor and looked over the edge to find some other scrap of clothing I could use as a blanket. I had to be honest with myself: the shirt he had given me was actually the best option after I saw the other clothes he had relegated to the floor.

I grimaced and picked the shirt back up. I slipped it on and laid back down on the bed. Before long, I heard my husband snoring heavily in his deep sleep, yet I was still wide awake. My inner walls throbbed with dull aches and my muscles were sore from tensing. I forced my thoughts to return to the reason why I endured this pain. I remembered Klaus and Sunny.

Klaus and Sunny. I did this for them.

Before long, I felt my eyelids grow heavy with exhaustion as I fell into a night of disturbing dreams and restless sleep.

Looking back, I remember it was never as painful as that first time. The second and third time I still wept afterwards, and Olaf did nothing but smirk at my misery. I quickly learned to silence my tears.

xXx

The next morning, Olaf awoke me with a sharp nudge to my back. I looked over to him and was surprised to see him up and dressed. "Make yourself useful and go make some breakfast for me."

I stood slowly. Olaf grimaced at the shirt he had tossed to me last night. "And change your clothes!" he demanded. "I don't want my wife to make a complete fool of me in front of my fellow actors."

I looked down at the disgusting piece of clothing. "You made me wear this," I pointed out.

Olaf rolled his eyes. "I didn't *make* you wear anything. I *suggested* that you wear it." He scoffed. "When you're done making breakfast, pack my finest clothes. I'm off to my honeymoon today!" he finished.

I straightened myself. "It doesn't seem very wise of you to leave me behind, knowing I could escape. In fact, it seems very remiss," I said.

"Duh," he sneered. "You're coming, too. And I think that's very 'miss' of me. My troupe members are my invited guests, so you'll be serving their every need."

Olaf stood straight. "Now go make breakfast. And make something hot. With coffee."

I left Olaf's room and went straight to my room to put on clean clothes. As much as I wanted to, I didn't have time to take a shower. I wanted nothing more than to turn on the water as hot as it would go so it would scald off the memories of the previous night. I wanted to scrub until the layer of skin that Olaf had touched was no more. But I couldn't.

While I waited for the pan to heat, I went and fetched the paper from the mail slot in the front door. Big, bold print caught my attention as I unfolded the paper: "At Least 140 Dead in Last Night's Theatrical Blaze." My stomach dropped. From what I had heard backstage, that was roughly the amount of people who had come to the show.

I brought the paper to the kitchen, my eyes fixated on the photo of the burning building. I quickly scanned the story, and they had identified some of the victims. I read the list to see if I recognized anyone. I found names who were vaguely familiar, as if I had heard their names in passing from my parents when they were alive: Josephine Anwhistle, Olivia Caliban, Dr. Montgomery Montgomery. There were whole families that were killed in the fire, one being the Snickets, Jacques, Kit, and Lemony. Then, I finally came to two names that caused my breath to seize in disbelief: Arthur Poe and Justice Strauss.

I laid the paper down on the kitchen counter. Mr. Poe had sons and a wife, but Olaf didn't care. He murdered the banker simply because he was in charge of my parents' will.

And Justice Strauss. He killed the one person who made living as Olaf's servant bearable. She was immensely kind, and had offered to gift me several books after the play.

I cracked the eggs into the frying pan. As my thoughts wandered, I had to consciously try not to burn them. However, serving Olaf burnt eggs would be an irony not lost by either of us. Olaf had promised to burn my world to the ground, and he was doing just that.

I plated the eggs and poured a mug of coffee. I brought the breakfast with the paper into Olaf's dining room, where he sat at the head of the dining table, impatiently drumming his long digits against the wood. I set the plate, mug, and paper before him and stepped back.

He gazed at me suspiciously before he took a bite of his food. "They're too runny," he said shortly, continuing to eat.

I pushed the paper forward. "People perished last night. At the theatre."

Olaf didn't respond.

"Mr. Poe was there. He had children!" I stated.

"And now they're one-half orphans," Olaf grunted. He sipped his coffee. "This coffee is watery."

"Whole families died, Olaf!" I flipped to the page with the names of the deceased. "Some people called Jacques, Lemony, and Kit Snicket. They died!"

At their names, Olaf's head shot up. His face was devoid of any emotion as he looked to where I was pointing on the page.

"Snicket?" he repeated.

"There's dozens more!" I gestured to the photo of the theatre. "Why did you start the fire?"

Olaf glared at me. "I couldn't have started the fire! I was there next to you the whole act!"

I scoffed. "You got someone else to do it! But why?"

"I don't have to explain myself to snotty orphans who don't know when to shut the fuck up," Olaf's sharp voice cut through me. "Now, you've made my breakfast. Go and pack my things for my honeymoon."

I stared at Olaf a moment more. I could hardly comprehend how cold-hearted an individual he was. As I turned to leave, I wondered who the Snickets were, and why Olaf had seemed shocked at their names in the paper.

xXx

The black car pulled up in front of Mulctuary Money Management, the late Mr. Poe's place of work. Olaf stepped out of the driver's seat, and the rest of his troupe followed. There were far too many people in the car; I was practically squished in between several henchmen as the white-faced women hazardously shared the front passenger seat.

"Countess, up here with me," Olaf barked, snapping his fingers beside him. I pushed my way through his henchpeople and to his side.

"Unfortunately for me, you must be with me when I withdraw my money," he said to me. He pulled the wrinkled marriage certificate from his inner jacket pocket. "Apparently, this doesn't cut it on its own."

I shook my head dejectedly. Olaf then bent down to look me in the eyes. "Remember, if you don't follow through with this, I'll cut your brother and sister into pieces and feed them to starving lions," he snarled.

"I understand," I replied angrily.

Olaf grabbed my upper arm and led me into the bank. At the front desk, he threw on the charm for the receptionist.

"Can I help you, sir?" the receptionist asked, her lipstick grin spreading wide across her face.

"I'm here to speak with the one regarding the Baudelaire fortune," Olaf said. He matched the woman's smile.

She nodded. "Of course! One moment." She picked up the phone on her desk and brought it to her ear. "There's a gentleman here to speak with the person in charge of the Baudelaire fortune." She paused. "Yes." Another pause. "Oh, dear. That's unfortunate. I'll let him know."

As the receptionist hung up, Olaf put on his fakest concerned expression. "What's wrong?" he asked.

The receptionist frowned. "The man in charge of the Baudelaire fortune, Mr. Arthur Poe, perished in a terrible fire yesterday. Fortunately, his assistant is currently handling all of his accounts while we try to disperse them. I'll take you to her now."

The receptionist stood and gestures for Olaf and his troupe to follow her. Olaf practically dragged me along.

"Ms. Scieszka?" the receptionist called as she opened the door to the late Mr. Poe's office.

A blonde woman at his desk was shuffling around papers. She looked up, and her face appeared to fall as she saw Olaf.

"This gentleman would like to speak with you—"

"Regarding the Baudelaire fortune. Yes, Mary, you mentioned over the phone. I'll deal with him," Ms. Scieszka said a bit distractedly.

The receptionist nodded and closed the door behind herself after Olaf's troupe filed in.

"Hello, Olaf," Ms. Scieszka greeted.

I glanced to Olaf in surprise.

"Jacquelyn," he replied. Apparently, they knew each other.

Olaf pulled me along as he approached the desk. "I'm here to withdraw the Baudelaire fortune," Olaf said, his voice smug.

Ms. Scieszka glanced to me and grinned briefly before she looked back to Olaf. "I'm sorry you came all the way here for nothing, sir, but I'm afraid I cannot do that. Only a Baudelaire heir can do that."

Olaf held up my arm. "This is Violet Baudelaire. She's the oldest Baudelaire child, and I'm her guardian."

Ms. Scieszka cocked her head. "My records indicated that she would not be allowed to access the fortune until she is 18."

Olaf chuckled. "Forgive me, I neglected to mention that she is also my wife," he said.

Ms. Scieszka's face fell. "But... she's only 14! She would need—"

"A guardian's consent." Olaf smiled a shit-eating grin that made me sick to look at. "She had my consent to marry me."

Ms. Scieszka looked back and forth between me and Olaf, her mouth open.

"And I do believe that the law here also states that any heir who is married *before* 18 can have their inheritance accessed by their partner," Olaf explained.

"Yes, but you must have a valid marriage license—" Ms. Scieszka began.

Olaf shoved the marriage certificate into her hands. "I believe you'll see it was legalized by Justice Strauss. With the bride's signature in her own hand."

With a defeated look, Ms. Scieszka examined the document over and over again.

She looked up at me. I could tell that she wanted desperately to apologize.

"I'd like all of it in cash," Olaf said.

Ms. Scieszka sighed. "Half the fortune is manifested in assets. It would take time to get all of it in cash," she responded.

Olaf rolled his eyes. "I'll take what's available in cash now."

Once again, Ms. Scieszka sighed as she picked up the phone on the late Mr. Poe's desk.


	2. Two

For the next several weeks, the Hotel Denouement was my home. Olaf's idea of a honeymoon was several weeks long filled with nothing but extravagant purchases with my parents' money. Every time Olaf bought the most expensive item on the menu for himself and his troupe, my heart sank further into my body; it could have been used for Klaus' college fund or new teething rings for Sunny.

The hotel, I had to admit, was a welcome change from Olaf's disgusting abode. I wasn't forced to cook or clean, so I spent most of my days with my hair pulled back in the ribbon my parents gave me. In the four and a half weeks we had been there that far, I had come up with the blueprints for an elaborate elevator repair machine that could attach to the bottom of the elevator and a mechanism that could predict the weather by listening to birdsong. Unfortunately, I had no way to build them.

Each night, Olaf got drunk with his troupe. Overall, he purchased enough alcohol to drown an elephant. I made it a habit to confine myself to the room he forced me to share with him while they partied in the hotel's restaurant. He particularly scared me when he was incredibly drunk, as the first night of our honeymoon, he struck me across my face for correcting a misspoken phrase.

Because of this fear and stress, I lost weight and, eventually, I missed my period because of it. Briefly, I considered that my missed period was due to something else entirely, but I decided against that theory when I remembered that Klaus had once read that prolonged fear and stress could cause the human body to go haywire.

One night, I had nearly fallen asleep in the hotel room armchair when I awoke to the fact that I was rather hungry for once. I searched the room for something that might have been brought back to the room, but with no luck.

I looked at the clock and saw that it was still early. Olaf and his troupe were still downstairs having a raucous time. I figured that, if I was careful, I could sneak down to the sundry shop and get something.

I left the room and headed downstairs. Even before I reached the lobby, I could hear Olaf's loud voice through the doors of the elevator.

As I stepped out into the lobby, peeked my head out of the elevator to make sure that Olaf or his friends were not around. The deserted lobby felt strange, as there was normally life bustling through it. I thought, perhaps, I might have enjoyed sneaking out in the hotel lobby if it were me and my family, where consequences were not detrimental.

I reached the sundry shop, and, thankfully, it was still open. I quickly grabbed a pack of nuts and approached the cash register. There was no one there, but I decided to wait.

Cold metal snagged around my elbow and pulled me around. "Violet," said the hook-handed man. "Count Olaf was just talking about you!" He snatched me away from the counter and pulled me away. "He'll be so happy you're awake again," he slurred.

Another evening of heavy drinking, I presumed. As he pulled me through the lobby to his boss, my heart thudded in my chest. What would Olaf do to me tonight? How drunk was he?

The hook-handed man brought me to the private room of the hotel's restaurant. The cacophony of their drunkeness was loud, even when the door was closed. He opened the door and pushed me inside.

"Hooky!" Olaf shouted excitedly. "You've brought me my wife! Did she give you any trouble?"

The hook-handed man shook his head. "But she was out of your room."

Olaf's smile of amusement turned villainous. "Oh, dear. We can't have that, can we?"

I swallowed without acknowledging the snickers around the room. I fiddled with my ribbon that was tied around my wrist for safekeeping.

Olaf brought his hand up and crooked his finger at me as if he was coaxing a dog to approach him. I glanced around before slowly making my way to stand in front of my husband. He sighed as he cocked his head while examining me. He dropped his hand on my shoulder and squeezed extremely hard.

"We have been so focused on producing a show for the adoring public that we haven't had much fun ourselves, have we?" Olaf asked his troupe, though his shiny eyes were locked with mine.

A resounding "Yes!" came from around the room with scattered applause.

Olaf stood, leaning slightly on me as he swayed from drunkeness. I stumbled under his weight, but I found my footing. He turned to look at me pointedly. "Who thinks that Violet here should...entertain us for a while?" Another positive response.

I flinched and backed away from Olaf in fear. "Count Olaf—" I muttered.

Olaf laughed derisively. "My Countess, how little you think of me. I wouldn't dream of sharing you! You're my wife."

I shook my head. "Then what..."

Olaf bent at the waist to look me in my eyes. He smiled. "A demonstration perhaps?" Olaf placed a hand on my cheek and ran his thumb over my lips. "Show them what else your little smart-ass mouth can do besides talk unceasingly."

I was horrified. I jerked my head away from his hand. "I would rather die than do that in front of your despicable friends!" I shouted.

Olaf chuckled in response as he stood straight. "I don't think I'd have to kill you." Olaf turned to the hook-handed man. "Hooky, go make the call. Klaus won't be needing his head any longer.

"No!" I screamed before the hook-handed man could leave. I squeezed my eyes shut, but opened them after a deep sigh. "Don't hurt him. I'll do what you want, Count Olaf. Just don't hurt him or Sunny."

Olaf smirked and waved his hand back at the hook-handed man, who sat at the table with the rest of the troupe.

"Very well." Olaf fell back into his seat and gestured around. "It seems as though Violet _will _be performing for us." The troupe applauded and whooped rowdily.

Olaf gestured for me to stand in front of him. I grasped at the edge of my dress as I attempted to ignore the stares of Olaf's troupe. "What do you want me to do?" I asked quietly.

"On your knees, Orphan," Olaf said. "Let this be an acting lesson for you all," Olaf announced. "Your dear Count Olaf will be demonstrating how to keep your cool under...exciting circumstances." He pointed to the ground when he saw I hadn't moved.

I slowly sank to my knees. In my mortification, I suddenly felt hypersensitive to every sensation; I could feel the flat roughness of the carpet beneath my knees, the stillness of the air around me, the itchiness of my socks. Everything was so incredibly wrong.

Olaf pulled me by my collar in between his knees. He folded his hands and rested them across his midsection. "Unzip."

I looked down to my eyeline to find Olaf's pants tented before me. My lips went into a straight line as I took the zipper of the crotch of Olaf's dirty pants. I tried to breathe shallowly so as to limit the foul smell of Olaf that accosted me. I purposefully averted my gaze away from Olaf's face.

Once the zipper was down, I heard Olaf sigh pleasurably. He stood slightly and pushed both his pants and boxers down over his erection. When it was free, I wanted to gag, as I knew in the back of my mind it had been quite some time since Olaf had bathed properly.

Olaf placed his hand on the back of my head and pulled me towards him. "Now, show me what those lips look like around my cock," Olaf hissed.

I pursed my lips. It was going to happen anyway, so I reasoned that I should get it over with.

I parted my lips, very unsure about everything. Suddenly, Olaf pushed the back of my head to force me forward. Olaf's cock shoved past my lips and brushed all the way to the back of my throat. I gagged and involuntarily closed my mouth around his length. My teeth lightly brushed against his hot skin, but I then felt a sharp tug against my head. I was pulled away, and his cock disappeared from my mouth. A slap landed squarely against my jaw.

"No teeth, you little brat!" Olaf snarled.

I coughed at the pain and the residual sensation of his tip at the back of my throat. Olaf clasped the back of my neck to bring me back to his cock.

I steeled myself again and opened my mouth once again. Olaf forced himself into my mouth, and he moved both of his hands to either side of my head.

My mouth watered around his length, and I desperately tried not to taste anything. I made sure not to involve my teeth in any way to prevent another assault. Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to breathe against his length. I adjusted my tongue against the bottom of his dick, and I heard him shudder.

"Good," he breathed. He forced my head to bob and move my lips and tongue up and down his dick. I accidentally let out a whimper, which caused Olaf's body to tense against me.

As I started to get a feel for the rhythm Olaf wanted, he removed one and then both of his hands from my hair. I then heard a slapping sound gradually getting faster from the place I knew to be where the bald man was sitting.

I went red in embarrassment and tried to pull away, but Olaf kept me in place. "Don't worry, my Countess," Olaf said in a strained voice. "They're only enjoying themselves, too."

I couldn't deny the awful taste of Olaf's cock any longer, and I just wanted him to finish.

Olaf bucked his hips into my mouth. "Yes," he breathed repeatedly. He pulled half of his length out of my mouth so the tip was resting on my tongue. I heard him moan and a salty, bitter liquid exploded in my mouth.

I shrieked and coughed in shock. I fell away from Olaf and turned to the floor, where I gagged and spat out his cum. I felt something light hit against my dress, and I turned to see Olaf holding his spasming cock as a rope of his sperm was launched onto my dress.

Olaf let his head fall back as his dick went limp once again in his hand.

"Not as bad as I thought you were going to be, my Countess," Olaf said as he tucked himself back into his pants.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "Why didn't you warn me?" I asked, frustrated.

Olaf suddenly stood and scooped me up, bridal-style. He faltered a bit, and, as a reflex, I wrapped both my arms around his neck to stabilize myself. He smirked devilishly. "We're going to bed, my friends. We will meet again tomorrow night. I'd like to give my wife a _personal_ performance of my own." Olaf grinned.

xXx

As I stared, unblinking, at the ceiling, my mind saw shapes swimming in the darkness of the room. Olaf was on his side, snoring so loud I didn't think I would get any sleep at all. I was still where he had left me: on my back, naked, and uncovered. It felt like my insides were turning outward.

The walls of my vagina throbbed in pain, as he had been extremely rough that night, fulfilling his promise that he had made earlier that night to his troupe.

His troupe.

I couldn't get the image of Olaf's troupe out of my head. They had witnessed me giving Olaf a blowjob. They saw me spit onto the floor. They had _masturbated_ to my misfortune. The sound of the henchman palming his own cock was one I knew would haunt me for the rest of my life.

I broke out into a cold sweat and my mouth watered. A wave of aggressive nausea overtook me. I leapt out of the bed and literally ran to the suite's adjoining bathroom. I hurled my body over the toilet and heaved. Bile forced it's way up my throat and into the bowl below. I coughed and spit when it stopped coming up. I noisily sucked in cold air, my nose and eyes running.

"I swear to God, Orphan," Olaf slurred sleepily. "If you're sick—"

"I'm not sick, Count Olaf," I called from the bathroom. "I just ate some bad...fish," I lied.

Olaf harrumphed and rolled over. It wasn't long before his snores began again.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand and stood. After flushing and washing my hands, I tiptoed back into the bedroom and headed over to my small suitcase. As I reached for my nightgown, I glanced down to my wrist to find nothing. I panicked as I realised my hair ribbon was gone. I looked over my shoulder to Olaf; he probably had grabbed accidentally during our—or rather, his—romp. If that was the case, and he found it before I did, he would lord it over me and have me do things to earn it back.

I pulled the nightgown over my head and crawled back into bed. I curled up as close to the edge as I could get without falling off. After a long time, I drifted off to sleep.

xXx

It was past noon before Olaf allowed me to leave the bed. I ached all over, especially where Olaf relentlessly pushed himself into me. It hurt to walk, move, and sometimes even standing still.

While he slept off his exhaustion and hangover, I snuck from the room to try and keep away from him as long as I could. I wandered through the hotel, noting the familiar yet vague organisational pattern of the rooms.

I was quickly worn out from walking and in too much pain to continue. I sat down in the lobby and simply watched patrons come in and out of the establishment. Contented customers checked out at the front desk while new vacation-seekers filled their place to check in. It was, surprisingly, very calming to watch.

"Is there anything I can help you with, my dear?"

I looked up, startled to hear a kind voice. A rather handsome man in a pressed suit was smiling down at me.

I allowed my lips to form a slight grin in return. "Not unless you have a library, sir. I'd love nothing more than to read about physics right now," I replied almost jokingly. It had been ages since I last read a book; the last one I read was one about law in Justice Strauss' personal library.

The man chuckled. "Actually, I may be able to help with that." He put forth his hand. "I'm Dewey Denouement. I'm one of the managers of the hotel."

I shook the man's hand. "Violet Baudelaire," I replied.

Dewey smiled again. "Baudelaire? I've heard that name, before. You're parents aren't Bertrand and Beatrice, are they?"

I cast my gaze to the ground. "Yes. They were. They quite recently perished in a fire," I said rather forlornly.

There was a pause. "Dear Violet, I am so sorry." Dewey brought his hand up again and gestured it. "Walk with me?"

I nodded and went to Dewey's side as he began to head off down a hallway off the lobby.

"I know what it's like to lose someone you love. Especially in fire," Dewey said. I looked up to see him staring off ahead of him. Sadness darkened his kind features. "The woman I was to marry died in a fire. Recently, as well."

"I'm very sorry," I expressed.

Dewey glanced to me. "It's very hard. Some days are harder than others. Sometimes you miss them, but then sometimes you miss the little things that made you smile. Like the way they say 'Minneapolis' or how they're favourite food was chicken piccata. Those are the days when you're not sure you can keep going," Dewey explained.

His words caused me to remember how much my mother loved dragonflies and my father's nose would crinkle as he read the newspaper in the morning.

"However," Dewey's clear voice shook me from my thoughts. "I believe that that is what our loved ones would want us to focus on, so that they never really leave us." Dewey looked at me and blushed. "Forgive me, I'm not very good with words at the moment."

"I think that was well put," I said with a consolatory smile.

Dewy gestured to the lobby behind us. "Have you noticed the pattern? Of the rooms?"

It took me a moment to realise what he was talking about. I shook my head. "Not quite."

"It's like a library," he offered as he turned to an ornate door.

"The Dewey Decimal System!" I exclaimed.

Dewey chuckled and unlocked the door. "Exactly, Miss Violet." He pushed the door open and ushered me in.

It was a large room with hundreds upon hundreds of books lining the shelves. My face exploded into a joyful grin that I hadn't felt in such a long time.

"Normally, we only allow certain patrons access to this library, but, others have found that the world is quiet here," Dewey whispered.

I turned to Dewey, my eyes watering at one of the first kind things since my marriage. "Thank you so much. You have no idea..."

Dewey placed a hand on my shoulder. "Books can remind us that we are never truly alone. They're a gift. Enjoy them."

Dewey nodded and left the library, closing the door behind him.

Completely ecstatic, I rushed to a bookshelf and immediately began searching for science books.

Soon, I found a wonderfully thick tome on college-level physics. I ran my fingers down the spine: I got chills as I remembered how heavy with knowledge books felt in my hands. As I grabbed the book and started to pull the book down, another book spine caught my eye. Nausea began to bubble up within me as I reached for that book instead.

xXx

After I got back to the room I shared with Olaf, I found he was still asleep, albeit fitfully. It was probably sleep apnea as I had read in the medical textbook I saw in the library. I knew I could invent some type of contraption that would help patients breathe by themselves. However, without my ribbon, I didn't think that I could envision anything clearly.

"Orphan!" Olaf shouted groggily. I jumped and spun around to see him sit up slowly in bed. He squinted his eyes and scratched his bare chest. "We're leaving. Go up front and collect my bill." Olaf gestured to the door.

"Leaving?" I repeated.

Olaf sighed. "Fucking hell. Yes! Honeymoon's over."

"Is there a reason why it's over?" I asked.

Olaf's dark eyes glared at me. "Why? Are you enjoying yourself? It's because I say it's over. Now, go!"

I quickly snatched up the borrowed books and hurried out of the room.

Down in the lobby, I approached the front desk where I saw Dewey with a guest.

"Enjoy your stay," he said to the departing woman. He turned to me and smiled. "Frank Denouement. How may I help you, miss?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I...thought you were Dewey..."

For a moment, the man looked confused, but then smiled. "Oh, Dewey is my brother. I'm also one of the managers here. What can I do for you?"

"Count Olaf is checking out. He needs the invoice to the room," I replied.

Frank looked down at his desk. "What profession is he?"

I rolled my eyes. "He says he's an impresario."

Frank pulled up a piece of paper and handed it to me. "I found it under 'actor.' We hope you enjoyed your stay here," he said.

I placed the books underneath my arm and grabbed the paper. "Is there any chance you could tell me where Dewey is? I have some things to return to him."

Frank pointed over my head, and I followed his gaze. Dewey was busy speaking to a bellhop.

I thanked Frank and walked over to Dewey, who, upon seeing me, ended his conversation and smiled at me.

"Violet! Enjoying those books?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, I have to return them. My..." I searched for the right word, "...guardian is taking us back home today." I held out the books for Dewey to take. My eyes watered involuntarily as I knew it would be a while before I could get my hands on another book.

Dewey looked at my outstretched arms and then at my face. He gazed at me sadly for a moment, put then pushed the books back to my chest. "Keep them. My gift to you. I don't know what you're going through, Violet Baudelaire, but as I said before, books are a precious reminder that we're never alone."

I opened my mouth in shock to say something. No words came out, but a tear fell from my eye. "Thank you. Thank you so much..." I hugged the books close to me.

Dewey smiled sadly. "I hope everything gets better for you, Violet. Unfortunately, I have some managerial matters to attend to, so I cannot stay and talk. It really was lovely to meet you. I hope our paths cross again," Dewey said as he stepped away. He raised a hand in farewell and left.

I stood in the lobby for a moment and watched as Dewey marched off to another part of the hotel.

Some type of smell wafted around, but I couldn't tell what it was. It was not strong enough for it to be a nuisance, but it was new, so it was just noticeable.

"Orphan!" Olaf's bark echoed in the busy lobby. He exited the elevator with his bag in one hand and my bag in the other. He tossed my bag to me. "Come on, we're going."

I picked up my bag and handed him the paper. "Here's the bill."

Olaf took it, crumpled it, and threw it off to the side. "Thanks," he responded. He gripped my upper arm and dragged me along.

"Why did you ask me to get it if you were just going to throw it away?" I asked. Olaf gave his valet ticket to the employee, who ran off to retrieve his car.

"Shut up, Orphan! You ask too many questions!" he snapped at me, his fingers squeezing my arm.

"You're hurting me," I mentioned as I tried to pull away.

Olaf bent down to me. "I'll hurt you even more if you don't shut the fuck up!" he hissed.

His black car pulled up and stopped in front of us. He opened the front passenger door and shoved me in. "I hope you haven't forgotten how to cook." Olaf stalked around and got in the driver's seat after tossing his suitcase in the backseat. "My colleagues will be waiting for us at home, and they'll be expecting a good meal." Olaf peeled out of the hotel's drive and started back to his house.

I then recognized the scent I had smelled back at the hotel with a jolt. It was industrial gas.


	3. Three

Olaf had a habit of hoarding newspapers. Whenever I cleaned, I would find sections of different editions all over the house. Despite his house being extremely dirty, that particular habit was the most infuriating yet most interesting to me. Headlines from years prior were found on top of the refrigerator or in between the chair cushions.

A few weeks after returning from the Hotel Denouement, I was straightening up the dining room. I picked up the placemat that he had used for days and found the front page to The Daily Punctilio from the day after we got back. The headline, printed in black melancholy letters, read: "Hotel Denouement Burns to the Ground." I swallowed hard and read the line beneath it: "Owners Frank, Ernest, and the Enigmatic Dewey Denouement Perish in the Blaze."

My face pinched in grief. I felt the color drain from me as I broke out in a cold sweat. Bile began to rise in my throat, and I dropped everything to dash to the bathroom.

I collapsed down onto the bathroom floor. I hunched over the grimy toilet and heaved. I expelled whatever was left in my stomach until my muscles stopped contracting. I coughed up spit into the commode, tears streaming down my face. I gasped for air when I knew that I was finished vomiting. I fell back to sit on the floor up against the wall of the dingy bathroom. I took a hand towel from the sink and buried my face in it, slowly wiping my mouth and cheeks.

I wanted to cry. I had had splitting headaches for more than a week and had been sick nearly every day for two months. I was skinny to start with, but now I could see that I was starting to get malnourished. As regular as my meals were, I couldn't keep much of anything down.

I suspected that I knew exactly what was wrong with me. I hadn't had my period since before 'The Marvelous Marriage' play, but at the time I was extremely stressed.

I stood, my legs shaking from exertion. After I flushed the toilet, Olaf voice resounded from the other side of the door.

"Get going! My troupe will be here at 6! You need to get back ASAP immediately!" he shouted while banging on the door.

"'ASAP' is nearly synonymous with 'immediately!'" I called back.

"Just get to the store, you fucking brat! You have one hour!" I heard Olaf stomp away, and I knew it was safe for me to exit the bathroom.

I took the small change purse from the drawer in the foyer, in which Olaf had allotted money for me to be groceries with. As I counted just about $100, I stepped out of the musty house and onto the sidewalk. I breathed in the fresh air that I had not had for several days. All of my chores this week had been indoors.

At the supermarket, I wandered around, soaking in my free time. I relished in the silence around me. I wasn't hearing Olaf bark orders or whisper nasty things to me. His troupe wasn't laughing at the way I walked or what I picked out. I was truly alone, but it felt so good.

I wove my way through each of the aisles, my thoughts racing with what to cook for Olaf's troupe that was under $100. I gradually filled my cart with ingredients for a chicken parmesan dish. I came to the health section of the store, where I stopped and lump formed in my throat. I knew that I had to know for sure.

I looked around to make sure that prying eyes were not watching me. I slowly walked to the family planning section. "Accurate and Fast Results!" the pink boxes boasted. Before I could second-guess my actions, I snatched a box and threw it into my cart before pulling out of the aisle.

At the checkout line, I found that I could not look the perky cashier in the eyes. "Did you find everything all right?" she asked as she scanned item after item.

"Yes," I muttered, my eyes examining the change purse in my hands.

In my peripheral vision, I saw the cashier pause when she came to the pink box. I felt her questioning stare drill into me.

"Ok, that totals out to $97.37. Cash or card?" she asked, her voice not as perky this time.

"Cash," I said as I held out the twenties for her to take.

She returned the change to me and started to bag up the items. I mustered every ounce of courage I had and looked up to her. "Is..." I started. She turned to me. "Is it possible for you to hold the bags up here for me while I use the restroom?"

The cashier paused and glanced at the pink box I reached for. She smiled as warmly as she could. "Yes, of course."

Without replying, I snatched the box and dashed to the ladies' bathroom. I locked my stall door and tore open the box with trembling hands. There were three tests in the box. I decided to use them all.

For the entire waiting period, I stared at the sticks in my hands, almost daring them to show their result. For a moment, no results were showing at all. I frowned, thinking that I had just wasted a portion of the money that Olaf had sent me with. I didn't have enough to buy another set of tests.

Then, right at the specified time, the lines on all three tests began to show. Positive. Positive. And positive.

Pregnant.

I dissociated for a moment, almost feeling as though I had whiplash. My ears rang as my heart pounded. A sob escaped my chest and I began to cry. I didn't care who heard me. I just cried.

I had had my suspicions back at the Hotel Denouement, but at that point, it really was a bit too early to tell. That was why I had also reached for the medical textbook along with the physics book. I remember flipping back and forth to the section on reproduction; it was like my subconscious was telling me about what was going on. I just didn't want to believe it, as I still didn't want to in the store bathroom at that moment.

What would Klaus and Sunny say? What would my parents have said if they were alive? Would they all say how foolish I was to let Olaf trick me into marrying him? Would they chastise me for not inventing some way to escape before something like this happened?

What would Olaf say?

I swallowed thickly at that question. _What if he didn't have to know_, I thought to myself. _Could I get rid of it?_

My heart twisted sharply. I looked down to my stomach and pressed my hand to it. I was met with slight resistance, as my uterus was already firming. There was a small life nestled in my womb, and Olaf had put it there. Could I even have the stamina for an abortion? Many women did, but even so, it was still a hard decision for them.

I needed time to think and formulate a plan of some sort. I dried my eyes and left the bathroom stall, stuffing the tests back into their box and dumping it into the trash.

As I passed the mirror on my way out, I stopped and looked at myself. Somehow, I looked different with this new knowledge. I examined myself, my eyes stopping at my abdomen. I smoothed my hands down my purple dress. So far, there were no glaringly obvious visual indications of my condition; I was eternally grateful for that.

I sped out of the bathroom and to the front to collect my groceries. It was difficult to carry them back, but even so, I had to hurry. I didn't have a watch, but I was fairly certain my hour was almost up.

I made it back to the house after practically sprinting the whole way. I adjusted the bags in order to open the door, but it swung open before I could touch the doorknob. Olaf stood in the doorway, fuming and glaring.

"Do you know how long you were gone?" he spat.

"I'm sorry, but I got held up—" I started.

He interrupted, "You were gone an hour and three minutes!"

I paused. "Three minutes?"

Olaf grabbed the collar of my purple dress and roughly pull me towards him. He bent down to my face. "I told you that you were to be back in one hour!" he seethed.

I tried not to breathe in his putrid breath as I replied, "It was only three minutes! It was an honest mistake!"

Olaf pointed to his kitchen. "Get in there and make whatever you're going to make and then go upstairs and clean everything!"

"That doesn't make any sense! What do you want me to clean?" I asked.

Olaf's face turned a splotchy red. "Clean every fucking thing that exists up there! You are going to stay upstairs until I tell you to come back down!"

He shoved me away and slammed the door after pulling me into the house. He disappeared into his parlor where I heard him uncork a bottle of wine.

As I cooked the chicken parmesan, my head spun as I tried to work out some kind of plan regarding my condition.

I couldn't yet say that I was pregnant, because I didn't fully believe it myself. It wasn't real, even though my symptoms and the tests said otherwise.

In the back of my mind, I kept a memory of Klaus coming to me after reading a book on the human body. He told me, "Physical evidence of a woman's first pregnancy usually manifests at 20 weeks." I only thought of that as an interesting piece of information at the time. I never thought I would be needing it so soon. However, this was a bit of a comfort, meaning I would not have to tell Olaf for another ten or twelve weeks. That did not, however, account for teen pregnancies.

As I pushed the pan of chicken into the oven, I wondered if I would even want to tell him. I couldn't imagine him dealing with a child of his own based off of his treatment of me and my siblings. He had no qualms against locking Sunny in a cage suspended far above the ground. He had no issue with hitting a twelve-year-old across the face. And he certainly did not care about my well-being at all. How would he react to his own flesh and blood?

If I decided to get rid of the pregnancy, would they need his permission? Would I end up having to tell him anyway?

My mind raced all night, and I blocked out the regular sneers I received from Olaf's villainous lot after that last night at the Hotel Denouement. They made rude gestures and called me names, but I was much too preoccupied.

I did as Olaf told and went upstairs to clean everything in sight. I found it methodical and, dare I say, relaxing. I focused on polishing the hallway dressers until they looked appreciated, not disgustingly neglected.

It wasn't before long when I heard Olaf's heavy footsteps come up the stairs. I didn't turn around, but rather continued polishing a small table near his bedroom.

I heard Olaf's breathing behind me, and I expected him to criticize the way I was cleaning.

Instead, Olaf placed a gentle hand on my side and pressed himself up against me. He buried his nose in my hair and lightly snaked his other hand up to my chest. I flinched under his touch, and he noticed.

"My dear little Countess, have I not been gentle to you?" he asked, his voice sickly sweet and unconvincing.

"Not really, no," I said truthfully.

"Oh," he cooed faux apologetically. He brought his palm up to my bare neck and pushed my chin up until the back of my head rested on his chest. He planted kisses along my jawline. "Well, perhaps I could teach you a few things as an apology?"

I gritted my teeth and shut my eyes. "No," I said.

Olaf chuckled, a rumble from deep within his chest. The hand on my waist crept beneath the hem of my dress. "No? Are you sure?" Olaf's voice became sharper. His hands slipped into my panties and spread my lips apart to apply sudden pressure to my clitoris.

A traitorous moan escaped my throat and my body buckled but was held in place by Olaf's grip. I felt his cock twitch behind me.

"I believe your body is saying 'yes,' my Countess." Olaf rubbed against the sensitive bud again.

"No!" My voice was strangled with unwanted pleasure. I shut my watery eyes.

"Your brother and sister also say 'yes,' Violet," Olaf said.

"Don't you dare talk about them right now, Count Olaf," I growled. "Just do whatever it is you're going to do to me and leave me alone."

Olaf began to move his fingers back and forth slowly, causing pleasure to course through my veins. I wanted to peel off my skin for reacting in such a way to this villain's touch.

"No, Violet, I want you to _enjoy_ yourself, tonight," he whispered in my ear while he pressed his growing erection against my backside. He pressed surprisingly soft kisses down my jaw and on the sensitive part of my neck. Olaf brought his free hand to brace over my stomach as he began to rub against me. I panicked slightly, hoping that he didn't put two and two together, as his hand rested right over my barely-there bump. He didn't pause or comment, so I released my fear. He gently sucked on the bend between my neck and shoulder, eliciting a sharp gasp from me.

"Say my name, Violet," Olaf urged.

Tears spilled from my eyes as I shook my head. "Please, no..." I breathed. I grabbed both of Olaf's wrists and tried to push him away. He only stroked me faster at this.

"My name, Countess," he asked again.

A sob broke free from my mouth. I just wanted my body to stop betraying me like this. My first orgasm couldn't belong to him, much less come from something unwanted. I shook my head once again.

Olaf slowed his strokes and made them last longer. Stars flashed behind my eyelids as my willpower was diminishing. I wanted this torture to end.

"Say it," Olaf's order came again.

"Olaf!" I screamed as something spilled over inside me. A wave of terrible pleasure drowned me as I leaned against Olaf's steady form. My orgasm kept ripping through me like a hungry lion tearing me apart, and I hated every second of it.

I started losing my high, and as I was coming down, I realized that Olaf was the only thing that kept me from falling to the floor.

"Good little Countess," Olaf praised. He took his hand away from my clitoris and pulled me back up. He began leading me into his room. "My turn, now."

Exhausted, I shook my head, my eyes burning from the tears that fell. "Please, Count Olaf," I begged.

"Now, my Countess, don't you want things to be fair?" Olaf led me to his bed and had me sit as he took off my dress and underwear. "I hardly think it would be if I didn't have my fun as well." He then began to undress himself. "Would it?"

I looked up at him, my face red and eyes puffy. "No," I whimpered.

Olaf smirked. "No, it wouldn't."

I started to lie down on my back.

"Not like that tonight. I'm in the mood for something different," he stated. He waved his hand at me. "On your hands and knees."

My exhaustion fell away for panic. "No, Count Olaf, please—" I started.

Olaf huffed and grabbed my sides, propping me up on my hands and knees.

"Count Olaf, please, no! I'll do anything you want, just _please_ not this—!" I wept.

Count Olaf ignored my cries as he got on the bed behind me. "Grab onto the headboard," he said.

I heard him spit to lubricate his member. I felt the tip of his cock against my anus.

"God, _please_, no, Olaf!" I pleaded.

When he forced himself into me, I screamed in pain and shock. My head fell to the pillow beneath me as sobs wracked my body.

Olaf grabbed both of my hips and began to thrust into me, pulling me back onto him with each thrust. He got rougher and rougher with me.

"Olaf, stop!" I shrieked. "Stop!"

He placed a hand on my back to brace himself. He grunted as he quickened his pace. "I'll stop when I've come, Orphan!" he growled back.

Not long after that, he released his load into me and removed his cock. I fell down onto the bed, still crying.

Olaf crawled over me and muttered into my ear, "Now, have you learned your lesson about being late?"

_That's what all this had been about?_ I thought. I nodded swiftly, just wanting him to leave me alone.

"Good." Olaf got off the bed and slipped on his boxers. He then just stood there and stared at me as I sniffed pathetically, curled up on one side of the bed. "Go clean yourself up. I don't want to wallow in blood and shit."

I coughed and gingerly sat up. Despite the fact that he was fine with me sleeping in my own blood the first time around, he did not need to tell me twice. I got up and went to his bathroom quickly before he could change his mind.

The shower in his bathroom was lime-encrusted from years of sporadic use. I resolved that, in my daily cleaning, his shower would be a certain destination.

I turned on the water, and it burst out of the shower head icy cold. Despite my attempts to turn it, the temperature dial was stuck. A cold shower it was.

I gasped when I stepped into the shower as the water slammed into my back. I shivered as I let the water fall over my shoulders and down my front. I looked around the shower for any type of soap, but was unsuccessful.

The events that had just transpired played over and over again in my mind. As I pictured Olaf's terrible hands moving across my body, the urge to vomit seized my stomach. I shut my eyes and tried to breathe deeply to quell the nausea.

I pushed Olaf from my thoughts, but found myself dwelling on the three positive tests from earlier. I hoped they were wrong.

Somehow, though, I knew that they weren't. I smoothed a hand over my stomach and rested my palm right under my belly button. According to the medical book from the Hotel Denouement library, around this time, the fetus was about the size of a plum. While it wouldn't have been obvious to anyone who wasn't aware, I could tell I was pregnant. To an untrained eye, it would look as though I had eaten too much.

Olaf pounded on the bathroom door. "That's enough! You're wasting the water!" he shouted.

I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. I covered myself with the one towel that was hung up in the bathroom.

When I opened the bathroom door, Olaf had already turned out the light and gotten in bed. I turned out the bathroom light so that the only way I could see was by the moonlight that peeked through the curtains. I looked around for my nightgown and put it on as quickly as I could.

I laid down on the bed next to Olaf with my back to him. He wrapped his arm around my chest and pulled me against his body. He put his lips to my ear and whispered. "You are mine, Violet Baudelaire," he hissed like a snake. "Your body, your mind, and your _soul_ belongs to me forever." He chuckled villainously and put his head back down on his pillow.

I had to escape.


	4. Four

I did not make it a habit to listen in on Olaf's meetings. However, after learning about the fire that destroyed the Hotel Denouement, I found myself eavesdropping whenever Olaf's company was over.

They, or rather Olaf, talked about his plans for becoming famous and his odd ideas for play productions that would supposedly launch him into international stardom.

It had been exactly one month to the day since I found out I was going to have a baby. I figured that I was around 15 or 16 weeks along, and every day it became harder to hide it both physically and emotionally. It didn't help that Olaf hardly let me out of his sight if we went out, which wasn't very often. I couldn't escape, but it was impossible for me to even let someone know that I needed help.

Olaf had demanded roast beef for the troupe's dinner that night, and so I slaved for most of the afternoon in the kitchen to appease him. While I was making dessert, I heard the familiar sound of people entering the house.

Based off of all the previous meetings at dinner, I had gradually worked out a timetable. Exactly seven minutes after the troupe entered the house, I was to bring them drinks until the food was ready, about ten minutes later. This seemed to work, and I never had any complaints outside the usual pestering.

I brought out two bottles of wine from the kitchen and ignored the snickers and snide remarks. I began to fill each of the actors' glasses.

I reached the bald man's glass, and as I poured he stared darkly at me. "Why don't you cast the little orphan in your next show? I'm sure she would be very fun to watch as your leading lady," the bald man sneered to Olaf.

Olaf laughed heartily. "She certainly has proved herself worthy of performing. Both onstage and in private." Olaf waggled his single eyebrow to his troupe, who howled in laughter.

"I'm sure she has, Count Olaf," the bald man replied. He patted me on my hip.

I swallowed hard and glanced to Olaf as I filled his glass. He was glaring at the bald man. "Go bring us our dinner," Olaf ordered in a strained voice.

I nodded silently and went back to the kitchen where I prepared the serving dishes with the roast beef and vegetables. When I came out again, the conversation appeared to have changed.

"How many more do we need to start?" the hook-handed man asked.

"Surely not too many," one of the white-faced women jumped in.

Olaf smirked. "The schism already destroyed many of the volunteers. Trust me, everything is nearly over," he replied.

That conversation digressed to the point where the words they strung together didn't make sense to me as complete sentences.

"I still don't understand how you got lucky with this little lady," the bald man chuckled, interrupting the flow of the conversation. "Such an obedient little orphan."

"It took me a while to train her," Olaf replied, a bit of discomforting anger at the edge of his voice.

I furrowed my brows and brought the roast beef to the bald man and Olaf. The bald man grabbed my waist, his giant hands digging into my hip bones.

"I'd love a little kitchen-maid like her of my own one day," the bald man said. He jerked me against him which caused me to lose my footing for a moment.

I set the serving dish on the table and turned to Olaf. "What else do you need?"

Olaf lightly shook his head and waved me away.

I suddenly felt the bald man's big hand surround mine and press it up against his hard member. "You like that?" he hissed.

I jerked my hand away and stepped back. "What are you doing?" I shouted.

The bald man laughed at my reaction. "Just having some fun, Orphan."

Red hot fury surged before my eyes and I blurted, "You want a little maid like me? You'll never find one with that winning personality of yours!"

The table grew suddenly quiet. The bald man's face turned beet red. "You little bitch!" he roared as he swung his huge hand at my face. I fell to the floor from the impact, my hand covering my throbbing cheek. There was a loud ringing in my ear, so I couldn't hear if the troupe had reacted at all. I looked up at the bald man, who was drawing back his fist for a harder hit. As a reflex, my arms shielded my belly in protection.

Olaf grabbed the bald man's wrist before he could bring it down. With wide and confused eyes, Olaf stared at me.

I panicked and stood quickly, forcing my arms to my side. I hoped that Olaf had not put two and two together and realized what I was doing.

A lump formed in my throat and I began to just silently weep from physical and emotional pain. How could I live the rest of my life like this? I brought my hand back up to my bruised and swollen cheek. There was a stinging sensation on the skin above my cheekbone. The bald man had left a cut.

Olaf turned his attention back to the bald man, who seemed genuinely shocked that Olaf had stopped him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Olaf snapped.

The bald man stuttered, "She was being a smart-ass—"

"She's _my_ wife, meaning only _I_ can do whatever the fuck _I_ want. You, on the other hand, cannot!" Olaf jabbed a bony finger at the bald man's chest.

"I just thought after, you know, her _performance_ at the hotel, we could—"

"You thought very wrong," Olaf said. He scanned his eyes over his troupe. He threw down the bald man's arm and snatched mine. "All of you shut up until I come back."

Olaf ushered me, still sniveling, upstairs and into his bedroom. He shut the door behind him.

I let out a loud sob. "Thank you," I whimpered.

"You think I did that for you?" Olaf asked. He scoffed. "You belong to _me_. I'm not very keen on sharing what's mine."

A new wave of tears flowed from my eyes at his statement. I knew I was only crying so badly because of the hormones, but I didn't care. I sat down on his bed and pulled my legs up onto the mattress as well.

Olaf crossed his arms and watched me for a few minutes. "At the next meeting I host, you are to stay next to me the entire time," he said to me once I had quieted down. "We're staging a new production, so expect to be up for well into the night."

I wiped my non-injured cheek. "What about the meal?"

"It should be on the table before they are seated," he stated.

I nodded slowly. "Yes, Count Olaf," I murmured.

"Stay up here for the rest of the evening," he ordered coldly. "I'm not finished with you yet." Olaf then left his room without another word.

I laid down on the bed and pulled the scratchy blanket over me. I felt very nauseous, and I was suddenly concerned about the possibility of a miscarriage. I had read that trauma was one of their causes, and what had just happened was very traumatic in its own right. I pressed both of my hands to my stomach. If I did miscarry, the baby would be gone and Olaf would never have to know. The child would not have to grow up in this house with Olaf as their father.

That was, of course, the best case scenario.

The worst case was me hemorrhaging out before I could get any help.

I waited, curled up and unmoving, for something to happen. I expected there to be some sharp pain or the wet sensation of blood, but it never came. I still wasn't sure of the symptoms of a miscarriage, as my book didn't really mention it, and I knew there were no books in Olaf's house about it. All that was left for me to do was wait and see.

Until Olaf came back upstairs and promptly fell asleep, I laid there in the middle of his bed, my mind racing with half-developed plans on how to escape his hellhole.

As I cleaned the kitchen after breakfast the next morning, Olaf strutted in. "I must 'construct' important business in the city today," he announced.

"You mean 'conduct,'" I corrected before thinking.

"Whatever." Olaf turned to leave. "One of my henchmen will be guarding the door to make sure you don't leave. If you do—"

"You'll kill Klaus and Sunny. You've made that much abundantly clear," I said, exhausted with his threats.

He paused for a moment and pitched up his eyebrow. "Good. You're learning," he replied. He left the kitchen and went to the foyer. "Have dinner hot and ready when I return!" he shouted as he left the house.

I finished cleaning the kitchen. Once I did, I went to the foyer and looked out the window to see the hook-handed man seated on the front stoop, his back turned away from me.

I let out a sigh of relief. In all of my pondering last night, I came up with a plan to escape. I hurried upstairs and eyed a landline that was gathering dust on one of the tables I missed cleaning in the hallway. I remembered seeing a phone book in a dresser in the bedroom I once shared with my siblings. I went to the cramped room and rummaged through the dresser until I found it. I rifled through the book until I came to the 'M' section and found who I was looking for: Mulctuary Money Management.

I memorized the phone number and dashed back to the landline and quickly dialed.

"Mulctuary Money Management; how can I help you? a chipper woman greeted.

"I need to speak to Jacquelyn Scieszka. She's the only one who can help me," I replied.

"Let me transfer you." I heard a beep and the line began to ring again.

"Jacquelyn Scieszka," the woman spoke.

"Ms. Scieszka, thank God you answered," I breathed. "It's Violet Baudelaire. My parents perished in a fire, leaving only me and my two siblings Klaus and Sunny alive. Mr. Poe handled my parents' fortune before you, but Count Olaf came to withdraw it."

"Oh, yes. I am sincerely sorry about that, Violet. What can I do for you today?" she said.

"I need your help. Please, you're the only one who knows what's going on!" I was growing rather hysterical.

Jacquelyn instructed calmly, "Ok, breathe…." I took a breath. "Now, start from the beginning: what's going on?"

I looked towards the staircase to make sure the hook-handed man had not heard me. "Count Olaf is…" I started.

"Just tell me what's wrong, Violet," Jacquelyn urged.

"Count Olaf is a horrible man who has done horrible things. He tricked Justice Strauss into allowing me to marry him. Once I did, he sent Klaus and Sunny away and won't tell me if they're all right or where they are. He constantly threatens to hurt or kill them if I don't do something he wants me to do. He set the fire at the theatre that killed Mr. Poe and Justice Strauss and he set the fire at the Hotel Denouement. He—"

A lump lodged in my throat as I recounted everything Olaf had done.

"Keep going, sweetheart," Jacquelyn said.

I began to cry. "He's…he raped me. Several times. I've said no. I've always said no, but he just does it!" I began to weep into the phone. "He beats me and he's threatened to kill me!"

There was silence on the other end for a moment. I feared briefly that she had hung up without me knowing. Finally, Jacquelyn spoke. "Violet, you are so very brave for coming to me. I'm so sorry. None of this is your fault."

I sniffed. "I'm scared," I muttered.

"I know you are. I knew there was something wrong when Olaf came in with you to withdraw your parents' money. I tried to prevent it from getting into his hands, but he had all the right answers. There wasn't anything I could legally do."

Jacquelyn paused to let me speak, but I found that I couldn't. "Violet? Are you there?" Jacquelyn asked.

"Yes." I curled the landline cord around my index finger. "There's…one more thing he did," I murmured. I frowned in disgust at myself. "I hate myself. _This_ is all my fault."

Jacquelyn sighed in sympathy. "Oh, Violet…"

"Count Olaf…he never used…" I rubbed my forehead. "I'm pregnant," I sobbed, the fact of the matter finally settling in me. "Please, I need you to help me, Ms. Scieszka. I'm afraid he or his friends are going to end up killing me or the baby!"

"I suppose now would be the best time to tell you." Jacquelyn sighed again, this time with resolve settling in her voice. "Your parents left their fortune her at Mulctuary Money Management because it has been partnered with a secret organization that they were a part of, just as I am. It's called the V.F.D., the Volunteer Fire Department. We put out metaphorical and literal fires."

I shook my head. "I don't understand."

"It's all right, Violet. There will be more time for that later. All you need to know is that we have noble intentions and that we will help you and your siblings escape Count Olaf. Or rather, whoever is left with the V.F.D.," Jacquelyn explained. "But don't worry about that. We will help you, Violet Baudelaire."

My heart soared with a hope that I had not experienced in a long time. "Thank you, Ms. Scieszka."

"I just need you to try and stay away from Olaf as much as possible. It's not just your safety that you have to worry about anymore," Jacquelyn told me. "I will contact you discreetly. Olaf will never know we're communicating."

"But what if he finds out you spoke to me?" I asked.

I could hear a slight smile in Jacquelyn's voice. "I'm going to be going on the lam." She paused. "You know what that means?"

"Yes."

"He won't find me. I promise."

"And Klaus and Sunny?" I mentioned.

"We'll find them, Violet, and we'll protect them," Jacquelyn assured. "I need to get started on everything."

"Wait," I said. "What do I tell Count Olaf about…" I hovered a hand over my stomach.

"How far along are you?" Jacquelyn asked.

I stopped to think. "I think I'm 16 weeks…" I looked down. My dress' fabric did a passable job of hiding the evidence.

"Don't say anything. I will contact you soon in secret." Jacquelyn paused. "Take care of yourself, Violet."

I heard the phone on Jacquelyn's end click as she hung up. I did the same on my end.

I didn't know anything about V.F.D., but at that point, I had no choice but to trust them with the lives of my family.


	5. Five

As time went on and as I waited for Jacquelyn to discreetly contact me again, I began a routine. I decided to take the path of least resistance and begin my daily chores before Olaf even awoke. This way, I wouldn't have to be around him for most of the day. If I was isolated, I would be able to receive any type of secret message.

My daily ritual of avoiding Olaf seemed to work, or else he was avoiding me. From the evening I was struck by the bald man, Olaf's temperament toward me grew strangely uninvolved and aloof. When he spoke to me, it was never longer than a single sentence.

The number of nights on which Olaf held meetings began to greatly outnumber the nights guests were not over. At the next meeting Olaf held, he had me do exactly what he had told me to do: have dinner on the table and stay near him. Sure enough, the bald man left me alone, yet sometimes I caught him leering at me. Whenever Olaf caught the bald man doing that, he would pull me closer to his side and force a kiss as a show of power.

I grew worried, as days nearly turned into weeks with no correspondence from Jacquelyn. What if Olaf had found out she meant to contact me and killed her? If he had, I reasoned that he would have told me and lorded it over me. As it was, there was hardly any change to our communication.

At one point, I had resorted to calling Mulctuary Money Management in the hopes that Jacquelyn was still there, but she was not. I hoped that she had been able to go on the lam from Olaf.

One morning closer to autumn, I awoke while it was still dark. Olaf was still asleep next to me, snoring away. I stood as gently as I could so as to not wake him. I went to my small trunk in the corner of his room and pulled out one of my dresses. I moved silently without creaking any of the floorboards.

I made my way to the bathroom, my stomach threatening to empty its contents as per usual. I brushed my teeth and pulled on my dress. I was getting extremely nervous, as time was running out to tell Olaf. I was now at least five months along, and my dresses were becoming ever tighter around my middle, as well as other parts of my body that were definitely changing. My hips became subtly wider, and my breasts started getting slightly bigger. Olaf was certainly going to find out one way or another.

As I left the bathroom, I felt something that caused me to gasp in surprise. There was a small fluttering, like the wings of a butterfly, in my belly. I brought my hand to where I felt this movement and smoothed my fingers over my growing bump. Tears pricked at my eyes as I realized that the fluttering had been the baby's first movement that I had felt. It was suddenly all too real for me.

I went back to the bathroom and just stared at myself in the mirror, watching my hand move above where the baby made its home. I didn't know what I expected to see: I knew that movement couldn't be seen at this stage.

I felt the movement once again, and this time, tears did fall down my cheeks. Fear and wonder gripped my throat, making it hard to breathe. I turned to the side to see how much I was actually showing. I was definitely starting to look pregnant. I cradled my small belly and tried to imagine how different I would look in just a few weeks' time. I had a petite frame, but it also seemed as though I might remain rather small throughout my pregnancy. Through my parents, I had met family friends who were smaller than me at this stage; this brought a bit of comfort, as perhaps I would have a smoother delivery if my baby was ultimately small.

I knew what happened with pregnancy as I had seen my mother pregnant with Sunny. I remembered my mother smiling at me as she took my hand in hers and pressed it against her stomach to feel Sunny's light kicks. I never imagined I would experience what my mother felt so soon. As the baby moved once again, I placed my hand on the side of my small bump where the fluttering had come from. A motherly instinct washed over me. I had to protect _my_ baby at all costs.

"What are you doing?" Olaf's groggy voice sounded from the darkness of the hallway.

I spun around, icy fear gripping my heart. "Nothing," I blurted.

Olaf stepped toward me, backing me into the bathroom. His face was expressionless, besides the permanent furrow of his one brow.

"I-I was getting dressed and I—" I stuttered. "I was sick, and I—" My mind was scrambling for excuses and was coming up blank.

"What were you doing?" he asked again, his voice deadly quiet.

Tears began to spill freely from my eyes. "I'm sorry, Count Olaf, I'm so sorry." My voice broke and I cowered under Olaf's height. "Please don't hurt me," I begged as I held my arms up in defense.

Olaf said nothing but drilled his furious gaze into my eyes. His jaw clenched and a vein on his forehead pulsed wildly.

"I'm sorry, Count Olaf," I murmured. I dropped my voice to barely above a whisper. "I'm pregnant."

Time froze as my words hung in the air between me and Olaf. I shook all over, my mind racing as I struggled to read his reaction.

Olaf raised one side of his eyebrow in mere disinterest. "Well, duh. Of course you are." He shrugged. "Why do you think I haven't fucked you as much?"

It took me a few seconds to register that he was speaking. "What?"

"I'm not as dumb as you obviously think I am," Olaf added. "And I'm not at all surprised that I was able to knock you up on our wedding night." Olaf smirked.

"I don't know when it happened," I admitted. "All I know it was about around five months ago."

"Our wedding night was then." He put his hands on his hips.

I shook my head. "When did you know? That I was…?" I asked meekly. Olaf rolled his eyes. I flushed when I realized. "When the bald man hit me…"

Olaf shrugged again. "That, and you've been sick for _forever_, but you keep getting fatter. Again: duh," Olaf said, exasperated. "I just don't know what you want _me_ to do about it."

My eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

"You're still my wife. I still need stuff done," he replied.

"But—" I started.

Olaf huffed in frustration. "Can you walk?" I nodded. "Can you clean?"

"Yes, but—" I interjected.

"Can you still cook?"

"Yes—"

Olaf shrugged once more. "Then I don't care if you're pregnant or sick or have breathed in the spores of a poisonous mushroom; if you're still standing, you'll still cook and clean for me. Get busy." He turned to leave his room.

"But," I started. "I need to see a doctor. I'm going to need medical attention!"

Olaf called over his shoulder, "You'll see a doctor if and only if your head falls off."

Against my better judgement, I went after him. "But, Count Olaf, you're the father!" He descended the staircase without another glance behind him.

"Obviously," he said nonchalantly.

"That's not what I mean!" My brow furrowed and I stomped to the edge of the stairs. "What do you want me to do?" I screamed, my voice cracking in rage. "I need help! I don't know what will happen if I don't get proper medical care!"

Olaf spun around and ran up the steps to face me. "I don't fucking care!" he bellowed in my face. "Here's what _will_ happen, though: you will never leave this house again without me! You will never see you cockroaches of siblings again, and you will be under my control until the blessed day you die!"

I gaped at his outburst. He had never been this angry while sober Of course he had yelled before, but it had never been this terrible. I looked down and wrapped my arms around my midsection. "I _hate_ you. You're nothing but a villain." I was surprised by how soft my voice came out.

Olaf sneered. "I don't care for you that much myself." He spun with a flourish.

I had dinner on the table before his troupe arrived, as he had instructed. I had never actually been there with him as his friends came in, but I found he greeted every guest as though he were a king allowing his court into his private dining hall.

He had pulled up a small chair that was right beside his at the head of the table. When he ushered everyone into the dining room, he had me sit next to him while everyone reached to plate their own food.

Olaf reached over to the floor on his other side and produced a bottle of white wine. He placed it on the table and stood.

"My henchmen—and women—tonight, we will not discuss any work, as I have amazing news!" Olaf announced. He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me up so I would stand. He put his arm around my shoulders. "My little Countess will be having a mini Olaf in just a few short months!"

His troupe cheered loudly and applauded. I looked up at Olaf, how was grinning at all of the attention. He held up the wine bottle. "My finest wine for everyone!" he called out and another cheer sounded.

"I thought you said you didn't care," I sneered to Olaf, his troupe still celebrating.

He leaned down to me. "Why don't you be a good little wife and shut the fuck up while you go get more wine?"

I glared at him, but went to the kitchen and brought out two more bottles.

That night, I was made to sit at the head of the table and watch as everyone got extremely drunk. I couldn't leave, as Olaf was hanging on to some part of my body all night. Even while intoxicated, Olaf was acting, as he made a big show of fawning over my belly. He even went so far as to kiss it.

None of his friends actually left. They all passed out by two in the morning, except for Olaf.

My head was splitting from the barrage of noise and the lack of sleep. I propped my head up on the table, my eyes feeling heavy with exhaustion.

Olaf staggered into the room holding a whiskey bottle and vodka bottle in either of his hands. "I'm all out of wine, but I got these," he slurred, holding both bottles up.

I rubbed my eyes and stood. "Everyone's asleep. There's no one else," I said.

Olaf stumbled toward me, trying to set the bottles on the table. "Let's go to bed," he muttered. He held out his arm. "Help me up the stairs."

I sighed and went to placed myself beneath his arm. I led him to the stairs and adjusted myself as I braced for his stumbling. "I can't handle all of your weight, so you need to move your feet," I told him.

He chuckled drunkenly and dragged his feet slowly up each stair. There was only once when I thought I was going to buckle beneath him, but I caught myself.

When we got to his room, I let him go. Instead of stumbling to the bed, he suddenly snatched me and pinned me against the wall.

"What are you doing?" I asked as I clenched my fists against the wall.

He shoved his knee between my legs and pressed his forehead against mine. "Come on," he said. "I know you've missed me fucking you…"

Olaf slammed his lips against mine in an unrelenting kiss. I wiggled against the wall, trying to get away from him. Instead of letting me go, he kissed harder.

"Stop—!" I attempted to cry out, but his mouth swallowed my voice. He released his grip on my hands and yanked my dress over my head, his lips only leaving mine for a second. I took that moment to duck away from him.

He was quick, however, even while he was completely drunk. He wrapped his arm around my ribcage and pulled me back so that I was flat against him.

"You're drunk! Stop!" I shouted. I attempted to pry his arm away from me.

"Shh," he hissed in my ear. He used his free hand to undo his pants and pull them down with his boxers. "Just give me what I want, Violet," he slurred.

He pushed me to the bed and, before he forced me down, he ripped my panties down my legs.

I realized in that moment that I was incredibly aroused. I was disgusted with myself, but apparently, my hormones decided that I was craving sex and that it didn't matter how I got it. I still didn't want it.

Olaf straddled me on the bed and forced my legs apart. He swayed back and forth, trying to keep himself up. "I know I've missed your tight little cunt, my Countess," Olaf said. His oily grin spread across his face. He lowered himself, his arms propped on either side of my head.

"I don't want this, tonight, Count Olaf," I said through gritted teeth.

Olaf chuckled, disregarding me. He reached down to my nether regions and tucked his fingers deep into my folds. He smiled. "You're so wet for me, aren't you?"

I turned my head away so that I didn't have to face him. I decided that I was too tired to fight him that night. He was going to take whatever he wanted, and that would be that.

Olaf took his fingers away and replaced them with his cock. He pushed himself further into me. He rolled his hips against mine and started an incredibly rough rhythm. In shock, I cried out as he rammed into me again and again.

"Count Olaf, please!" I called out as I braced my hands against his shoulders to prevent him from completely going all the way down.

"You like that, Violet?" Olaf slurred, his mouth turning up in a drunken grin. He groaned and snaked his hand up my neck to my cheek and tried to kiss me.

"You're hurting me!" As his cock continued to bury deep within me, I felt something sting to the point where my eyes screwed up in pain. I screamed.

At that, Olaf moaned loudly and came, his body tensed above me. He panted in exhaustion, his lips still on my cheek. I could smell the alcohol on his terrible breath, and I coughed.

Olaf swayed unsteadily, and his body suddenly went limp. I shrieked as I rolled out from underneath him as he fell to the bed. My hand went automatically to protect my belly. He could have seriously hurt the baby being that careless. I whipped my head around to tell him off, but I heard him start to snore: he had fallen asleep.

Now incredibly angry, I got out of the bed, ignoring the now dull ache from Olaf's roughness. I put my panties back on and took my nightgown to the bathroom to get dressed and brush my teeth.

As I spit into the sink, I realized that that was most likely the strangest encounter I had had with a drunk Olaf. I did have to wonder if Olaf would end up drinking himself to death, and how he wasn't already dead from alcohol consumption.

I left Olaf's bathroom and got back in the bed after shutting off the light. I rolled on my side to face away from Olaf.

"Violet…" I heard him mutter after a short while. I didn't answer, hoping he would just go back to sleep. "Violet," he hissed. He tapped his hand groggily on my shoulder.

"What do you want?" I whispered, turning my head to face him.

"Issforyou," he slurred. He dropped something over my shoulder onto my side. "Fuckin' thing was in my jacket…" Olaf laughed. "It wuzza joke…"

"Go to sleep," I replied. I turned back over.

"Fuck off, bitch," Olaf snarled, but he rolled over and began to snore again.

I looked down at what Olaf dropped on the bed and picked it up to hold it to my eyes. My sight adjusted to the dark, and I realized with a start that it was my beloved ribbon.


	6. Six

After my confrontation with Olaf, things gradually appeared to become worse. As if he had a severe vendetta against me (more so than his current one), Olaf had me do increasingly tedious and challenging chores. Nearly every other day, Olaf would have me inventory his acting paraphernalia in alphabetical order, meaning I would be constantly up and down the stairs. Each time his troupe came over to rehearse, which was nearly every night, he would have me deep clean their shoes; sometimes he would have his troupe put on their freshly cleaned shoes and stomp around in his muddy yard just to come back in and have me clean again. It also wasn't enough that my siblings and I had scrubbed his floors as one of our first chores: he wanted that done three times a week.

It was during another inventory that Jacquelyn found me again. It had been a couple of weeks since the morning I had told Olaf about my pregnancy. Since then, he had kept me within 10 yards of him when we went out, meaning I couldn't sneak away to any doctor. I was now six months along, and I had no idea how my baby was doing.

I had just come back upstairs into the dusty attic looking for Olaf's glockenspiel. I knew it was in its previous location: in the trunk near the window. However, there was a small shoebox that was now on top of the trunk. Olaf must have put it there and forgotten it. I made sure no one was looking, and I opened up the shoebox. There wasn't anything of value in there. Just papers, trinkets, and random items. I flipped through the papers and found the picture of a young woman. Her wavy hair fell to her shoulders, and she had a bright smile full of genuine happiness. Her clear eyes reflected that same joy. I cocked my head, confused as to why this picture was stashed away.

I heard a light rap on the window. I jumped back, startled at first, but then relieved to see Jacquelyn's sympathetic face. She waved at me to open the window, which I did. I pocketed the picture and replaced the lid on the box.

"Violet," she whispered to me after she climbed in. She pulled her repelling gear through the window.

A grin spread across my face upon hearing my name. Even though she had called me by my name before, this time it felt more real. "You have no ideas how wonderful it is to hear you call me that instead of just 'orphan,'" I said with tears in my eyes.

Jacquelyn's brows furrowed. "Your name?" I nodded. "Oh, Violet." She approached me and gave me the first hug I had experienced in warmth in months. "There is nothing more precious to us than our own name. It's a summary of who we are." Jacquelyn released me and smiled at me.

She examined me from head to toe, her gaze pausing briefly at my midsection. "How are you doing?" she asked solemnly. "You look a bit unwell."

I lowered my head. "Count Olaf knows."

Jacquelyn paused. She placed a hand on my shoulder. "Are you OK? Has he done anything to you?"

I sighed. "He won't take me to see a doctor."

Jacquelyn's eyes widened. "How far along are you, now?"

"As far as I can tell, I think I'm around 22 weeks," I replied.

Jacquelyn sighed mournfully. "You deserve so much better, Violet Baudelaire." She glanced around. "You should sit down." She led me to a large chest and had me sit. Despite my protests, I was glad to be off my aching feet.

"I do have good news for you. The remaining V.F.D. have received word that your brother and sister were seen leaving Heimlich Hospital. It was reported that they both looked fine. We're still not sure where Count Olaf sent them, however," Jacquelyn said to me.

My heart soared at the knowledge that Klaus and Sunny were well. I could only imagine how they were being treated, but I was grateful for them to be alive.

"How did you find out?" I asked.

Jacquelyn sat next to me on the trunk. "There are eyes everywhere that are watching out for children like you and your siblings, Violet. Sometimes it takes a while to find you, but we almost always do," she replied. She placed a gentle hand on my back in consolation.

"I know you must be terrified, but I promise that we'll find a way for you to be reunited with Klaus and Sunny." Jacquelyn pulled me closer to her.

"How?" I stared off at nothing. "Count Olaf said that if I escape, he'll kill Klaus and Sunny. If they escape, he'll kill me. He's got eyes everywhere, too, Jacquelyn."

Jacquelyn pursed her lips in thought.

Faint footsteps began to ascend the staircase to the attic. We both looked to the closed door in panic.

"We're coming up with a few options, Violet. Give me—give _us_—some time, and we'll figure it out." As Jacquelyn spoke, she opened the window and began to climb out. "Expect some form of correspondence from me soon." She paused before she closed the window. "I'm so sorry we had to meet like this, Violet. Good luck to you."

The ascending footsteps stopped at the attic door. I stood, bidding Jacquelyn a quick farewell and going back to my task to avoid any suspicion. Jacquelyn repelled out of view just as the attic door burst open.

Olaf's temperamental gaze landed squarely on me. "It's nearly lunchtime, Orphan," Olaf snapped. He came up to me, his arms crossed and fingers tapping in annoyance.

I glanced his way. "I'm not finished with your inventory," I replied.

"Well, stop where you're at and make my lunch!" I nearly laughed, as Olaf sounded exactly like a petulant little boy who was not bought a toy he so desperately wanted.

I set down my pen and paper and turned to leave. "Can I please make a bit more than usual? I remember reading about needing to maintain a certain…weight," I requested.

Olaf screwed up his face and looked me over. "You're already getting fat enough," he said spitefully, gesturing to my growing midsection.

"I'm pregnant, not fat," I retorted.

"Then how come your face is getting so fat?" Olaf poked a long finger into my cheek.

I slapped his hand away and rubbed the spot where he had touched me. He was right at that: my face was rounding out as a result of the pregnancy.

I shook my head. "I still need a full meal. A proper diet is critical—"

Olaf groaned obnoxiously. "Do you ever stop nagging—?"

"I'm serious!" I screamed. Olaf suddenly wore a shocked expression as he shut his mouth. "I'm pregnant! Of course I need certain things! I need proper food! I'm going to need new clothes soon! I _need_ a doctor! You've shown no interest in this child, and you've known about it for two months! Now you've forced me to stay home and keep this baby! I'm 14, and I'm not prepared to do this on my own. You say you're my husband all the time; you're supposed to help me!"

"I don't have to do one fucking thing, Orphan!" Olaf yelled back. He raised his hand behind him to hit me.

I stumbled and fell back onto the trunk. My arms went to cover my belly as I recoiled. "Don't!" I shrieked.

Olaf lowered his hand and stalked closer to me. "I can do whatever I want to you! You're mine! I can beat you until you're black and blue or I can make scrub every inch of this house with nothing but a toothbrush! I could fuck you until your guts fell out! You're my Countess, my wife, _my_ fortune!"

Olaf stood straight, huffed, and turned around to leave.

"Whatever happens, I hope this baby is _nothing_ like you, Olaf," I seethed. I placed a hand on my stomach.

"Get downstairs and make my lunch," Olaf said.

"I'll make sure this baby know what a disgusting, horrible, monster you are. I'm going to raise them to be noble, like my parents raised me," I continued.

Olaf froze in his tracks. "You think your parents were _noble_?" He spat the word out like something bitter.

"Of course they were. And that's what _my_ baby's going to be."

A quiet voice came from his figure. "'They fuck you up, your mom and dad. They may not mean to, but they do.'" Olaf chuckled. "There are no noble people in this world, Baudelaire." He turned to look at me, his eyes melancholic. "No one is noble. You'll find that everyone does something villainous in their lives. Even you."

I glared at Olaf and scoffed, "I'll _never_ do villainous things like you."

"Oh, my dear, Countess," Olaf's lips pulled upwards as a laugh caught deep in his throat. "I'll be there the day you do so I can make sure you eat your words."

Confusion had addled my mind all day. Whenever I tied back my hair with the twine to do my work, I felt nothing. I had no bursts of creative energy or interesting ideas. I was simply off.

My task for the past few days had been to make the backyard appear more presentable. It was mostly weeds and very little decorative foliage had been planted. Nearly all the grass was dead, except for a few soggy patches where the water never drained properly. It would be a lot of work, but I resolved to make it look as lovely as possible. I began with the hedges: it had been ages since they were given a proper trim.

I was very thankful that it was not scorching hot outside. Perspiration still dampened my hair and dress from the work, but the September weather helped cool me.

I sighed mournfully as I realized that I would not be starting school again. All of my friends before my family's fire would be getting their school supplies and uniforms. They would receive their class schedules and sign up for clubs and sports. They would gag at the cafeteria food and complain about their difficult teachers. My friends would go to each other's house after school let out for the day and study and play. They would get to be kids.

I looked at my calloused hands as they used the shears to snip at the hedges. I wouldn't get to experience any of that this year. My eyes welled up with tears. Here I was with no parents, my siblings missing, married at 14 to a wicked man, and six months pregnant with his child.

I hated my life. I hated myself for letting this happen to me. I watched as I let the shears drop to the ground. Tears streaked my puffy cheeks and my throat tightened. The urge to scream built in my chest, but I didn't have the energy to let it manifest.

As if in an attempt to comfort me, the baby kicked softly inside me. I sniffed and looked down at my growing bump. I placed a hand where I felt the movement and rubbed my thumb against the fabric of my dress.

My head suddenly felt foggy, but before I could comprehend what was happening, I heard Olaf's sharp bark, "Orphan!"

I jerked my head up to see him stalking out of the house and toward me. "My troupe is coming over tonight, so I need you to start making dinner for them," he said.

I looked up at him as he came to a halt in front of me. "I don't feel all that well," I admitted. My vision began to blur.

"Don't try and get out of your chores, Orphan. Just get inside and start cooking," Olaf snapped. He scowled and spun around to go back to the house.

A ringing started in my ears and stars began to creep into the edge of my vision. "Olaf, please," I breathed, my energy seeping from my body. "I don't..." I tried to step forward, but instead, I collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

I heard the muffled sounds of people chattering and electronic beeping. I slowly opened my eyes and looked around. I glanced down to my arm and found an IV. I was in a hospital.

"Hey, sweetie," a woman in scrubs said to me. She approached me from the Emergency Room hallway with a smile. "How're you doing?"

My brow furrowed in confusion. "What's going on?" I asked.

The nurse looked at the clipboard in her hands. "Are you with a..." She narrowed her eyes. "Count Olaf?"

This was my chance. I could explain to the nurse everything and how Olaf was abusing me. I opened my mouth to speak.

"I believe I heard my name?" Olaf's voice rang out as he rounded the corner into my room. When he saw me, he put on a concerned face. "Oh, Violet!" He rushed to my side and embraced me tightly. He pulled away and looked me in the eye, his true self glinting through. "How are you doing? I was worried sick!"

The nurse grinned. "She's quite all right, sir. You must be so relieved," said the nurse.

Olaf's lips curled into a disturbing smile. He pinched my cheek. "You have no idea," he hissed.

The nurse hummed in approval, evidently buying into Olaf's act. "I'll go get the doctor, and he'll explain everything." Olaf watched as she left the room.

His entire demeanor changed back to surliness as soon as she was out of sight. He snarled as he stood up straight and backed away. "Don't think this gets you out of anything," he said.

"Did you bring me in?" I asked.

Olaf rolled his eyes. "Please. A nosy neighbor saw everything and called an ambulance. And I couldn't very well have a dead orphan in my yard, now could I?"

A middle-aged man with a kind face stepped into the room. He took a stethoscope out of his lab coat pocket and hooked it around his neck. "Hi, there! I'm Dr. Piedmont. And you must be…"

"Violet Baudelaire," I finished.

Dr. Piedmont smiled and gestured to Olaf. "Is this your dad?"

"I'm her guardian and her husband. Count Olaf, impresario," Olaf announced, turning up his charm.

Dr. Piedmont's expression faltered as he glanced to me. "Forgive me." He pulled out my chart from the base of my bed. He cocked his head. "I'm sorry, how old are you, Miss Baudelaire?"

I gnawed at my lip, my face growing red with embarrassment. "14," I replied.

"14..." Dr. Piedmont responded. "Well, I think it's a bit obvious as to why you collapsed, Miss Baudelaire. As a teenager, your body isn't quite fully equipped to handle the stresses of pregnancy. You developed anemia."

Olaf gasped theatrically and knelt by my side again, squeezing my hand. "Oh, my dearest darling!" he exclaimed. "How terrible!"

Dr. Piedmont continued, "Well, not necessarily." He took out a pen and pressed it to the clipboard. "Have you been taking proper vitamins, Miss Baudelaire?"

I stuttered, "Not really…"

"Have you been to see a doctor recently?" Dr. Piedmont asked.

Olaf butted in. "We're certain that our little..." Olaf's voice became sickly sweet, "...bundle of joy is doing just fine." Olaf coiled his arm behind and around me and rested his hand on my bump.

"Still, she should be examined by a doctor. Being 14, she has a lot of potential health risks to be concerned about," Dr. Piedmont urged.

Olaf frowned. "But, it's my decision as her guardian, right?"

Dr. Piedmont sighed. "Yes, sir, but—"

Olaf laughed. "Then it's settled. I'll take care of whatever my little darling needs." Olaf squeezed my hand tightly once more and began to smooth his hand over my bump possessively.

Dr. Piedmont glanced between me and Olaf for a moment. "May I have a word with Violet alone? I need to make sure I haven't missed any medical information," he asked.

I looked at Olaf, whose expression shadowed immediately. He let go of my hand subtly and moved it beneath the bed covers. "My good doctor," he began. "We're husband and wife. Surely whatever you ask you can ask in front of me too?"

Dr. Piedmont approached me. "Is there anything that is in your home that might be considered...upsetting to your health?"

I knew exactly what he was asking. My heart clenched in relief that someone had seen what was happening. As I went to answer, a familiar sharp point pressed up against the side of my belly. I realized that that was why Olaf had covered his hand with the blankets. This, however, was far more terrifying than the first time he threatened me with a knife; this time, he wasn't just threatening me or Klaus or Sunny. He was threatening his own unborn child.

"No, sir. Everything is just fine at home," I lied. Olaf pressed the knife a little harder against me. "We're very happy together."

The knife suddenly disappeared. "You see, doctor? Everything is perfectly fine," Olaf fibbed.

Dr. Piedmont sighed once again. "Very well. Miss Baudelaire, I'm writing a prescription for the anemia. You should start taking supplements, and I cannot stress enough how you need to see a doctor. My guess is that you're a little over six months now, so you should really get checked out," he explained. He started to leave.

"Wait," I called after him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Olaf glare at me.

"Yes, Miss Baudelaire?" Dr. Piedmont replied.

"Could…could I request an ultrasound?" Dr. Piedmont stayed quiet. "I mean, I know you probably already did it, so it would be stupid to do another one—"

"Let me call a technician and see what I can do," Dr. Piedmont said with a quick smile. He then left.

"Why would you ask for that?" Olaf asked gruffly.

"I'd like to see my baby. Wouldn't you?" I retorted.

Olaf rolled his eyes and sat back in his seat.

Because I was a fall risk, they wheeled me into the ultrasound room. Unfortunately, Olaf was right there with me.

"All right, sweetie. Can you get up onto the table?" the technician asked me.

"I'm pretty sure," I replied. I stood, a bit wobbly.

"Dad, will you help her out?" the technician asked nonchalantly as she turned to the ultrasound machine.

Olaf's eyes widened, his brow still furrowed. "Dad?" he repeated distastefully.

I glanced between him and the technician. She smiled. "Oh, it's just a little moniker we use to call the parents," she explained. "Help her up?"

Olaf stared at me and silently rolled his eyes. He took my arm and helped me sit on the exam table. The second I was up there, Olaf snatched his hand away and sat in the chair provided.

I leaned back on the table and took a deep breath.

"All right." The technician rolled up my hospital gown and placed a sheet over my private parts. "This gel is just a little cool," the technician said as she took out a tube and opened it. She squeezed the gel onto my stomach and smoothed it around.

The technician took the ultrasound wand and placed it firmly against my belly. "You ready to see the baby?" she asked me.

I nodded quickly.

There were a few minutes of silence as the technician watched the screen and moved the wand around my belly. She then smiled brightly. "Here it is," she said as she pushed the monitor toward me and Olaf for us to see.

There was a clear baby shape on the black and white screen. I couldn't think or breathe as it registered that that tiny human was moving around and alive in me. I simply stared at the image.

"I've got the heartbeat. You want to hear it?" the technician asked.

"Yeah." I heard both my voice and Olaf's surprisingly soft voice reply. I turned to look at Olaf, who was sitting on the edge of his seat, his eyes wide with something resembling wonder, as he looked at the monitor. He didn't even notice that I was looking at him.

A constant _swish-swish_ noise filled the room. My baby had a _heartbeat_.

"It's a good steady heartbeat. Right now, there shouldn't be anything to worry about," the technician said.

I watched as Olaf stood slowly and step toward the screen, still fixated on the baby's image. "It's heart…?" Olaf repeated.

"Yes, sir. That's a good, strong heart," the technician assured. "You guys want to know what it is?"

Olaf was shaken from his daze. He looked at the technician with an unreadable expression. "No," he replied simply. He sat down again.

"Oh! A surprise then." The swishing noise cut off abruptly and the technician took the wand away from my belly and placed it back on the ultrasound machine.

"Will you be wanting a recording of the ultrasound today?" the technician asked both of us.

Before I could answer, Olaf said sharply, "We just want to check out and go home. Now."

"Oh," the technician said. "Very well. I'll send you back to your room and let Dr. Piedmont know."

When we got back to the room, Olaf became more insistent that we leave. Against Dr. Piedmont's recommendation, we left.

"That ultrasound wasn't necessary," Olaf seethed as we got in his car. "A whole bunch of fucking money, wasted." Olaf glared at me as I put my seatbelt on. "You owe me, Orphan."

On the car ride back to Olaf's house, we sat in silence. I could feel his anger radiating from him, and I could only imagine what punishments he could be thinking up because I took up his time. I had no idea what caused him to turn that fast, but it was extremely upsetting.

My thoughts turned back to him threatening to hurt me while Dr. Piedmont was in the room. I couldn't get the sharp sensation of the knife against my belly out of my head. I still couldn't believe that Olaf would have been willing to hurt his own child. "That's low, even for you, Olaf," I murmured.

"What the hell are you whimpering about?" he asked sharply.

I put my hand on the top of my bump. "Before the ultrasound, you were ready to kill your own baby! Just so you could hear me say how happy I am with you," I snapped.

Olaf jerked the steering wheel and pulled over to the side of the road. He turned to me, his eyes dark with rage.

"Did it ever occur to you that I knocked you up on purpose, Orphan?" Olaf spat. "I knew that one day, you might just give up on your siblings."

"I would never—"

"I needed more leverage to control you. And what better way to control someone than with their own kid?" Olaf smirked.

I opened and closed my mouth incredulously. "That's the most terrible—"

"I don't give two shits about that fucking baby, but you already do, even if it is mine. You were wrapped around my little finger all because I put a knife to your belly," Olaf said.

Tears rolled down my cheeks. "This was your plan from the start?"

Olaf chuckled. "Not from the beginning, no. It was my plan the moment I first fucked you," he finished with villainous cackle.

As he pulled the car back on the road and we restarted our journey to Olaf's house, I sank my head into my hands and quietly sobbed the rest of the way.


	7. Seven

I awoke with a start when I heard a loud thumping sound. I shot up in bed and looked to my side for Olaf. He wasn't there.

There was silence for a moment and I looked around the dark room. Perhaps I had dreamt the loud noise.

A grunt and the shattering of glass broke the quiet stillness. Whatever it was, it was coming from the attic.

I stood as quickly as I could and padded out into the hallway. I climbed the stairs to the attic, where I saw the pale blue moonlight shining through the window, giving off an eerie illumination.

"Where is it, where is it," I heard Olaf muttering in the corner of the attic. I saw the silhouette of him bent over and rummaging around in boxes.

I stepped forward to approach him but felt something small and sharp on my bare foot. I cried out quietly and looked down. Broken glass glittered all over the floor.

Olaf stopped his looking and I saw his figure turn around. "Where is it?" he asked me.

I limped around the glass and over to a closed trunk. "What are you talking about?" I sat and placed my ankle on top of my other knee as best as I could. Even in the low light, I could see the glint of a small shard of glass in the sole of my foot. It started to bleed slightly. I bent over to get the glass out, but my belly prevented me from examining it closer. I huffed.

"You know what I'm talking about, you fucking brat!" Olaf shouted. He stomped over to me, the glass crunching beneath his shoes. It wasn't until he was standing right in front of me that I saw a nearly-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. "Where is it!"

"There are lots of 'its' in the attic! Now, what are you looking for?" I shouted back.

"The picture, for God's sake! The fucking picture!" Olaf bellowed. "It was up here! I know you took it!"

I knew exactly what he was talking about. It was the picture of the young woman that I put in my pocket the day Jacquelyn found me in the attic. In order to stave off his anger, I decided to play dumb. "What is it a picture of?"

Olaf kicked a box that was on the ground, and papers scattered. "It was a picture of a lady!"

"What did she look like?" I said in a calmer tone.

I couldn't see Olaf's face clearly, as he was turned away from the moonlight, but I heard him sniff. "She…" his voice broke slightly. He sighed and got to the floor. "Dark hair. Blue eyes." He paused. "Beautiful…" His drank the remaining liquid in the bottle and tossed it aside. Olaf ran a hand through his hair. "It was Kit."

_Kit Snicket_, I thought to myself. _So that's why he reacted that way when I first told him about them in the fire._

"She was the one in the fire at the theatre with her brothers," I mentioned quietly.

"Her idiot brothers. I hated Jacques _and_ Lemony. I don't know which one I hated most." Olaf started to fish something out of his pant pocket. He handed me a folded piece of paper.

I took the paper and turned it toward the moonlight. It was an obituary page from the newspaper. I unfolded it and squinted. "'Kit Snicket was a taxicab driver with a penchant for jet-skiing. Snicket was killed in the theatre blaze, along with her twin brother Jacques and younger brother Lemony. She leaves behind her fiancé, Mr. Denouement.'" I blinked. Kit must have been who Dewey Denouement was mourning when I met him. I paused at the next sentence.

"Keep going," Olaf demanded dryly.

I swallowed. "'Snicket was three months pregnant,'" I finished. I folded the newspaper.

"You forgot to throw out that edition of the newspaper. It was still in the kitchen," Olaf said.

"Was she special to you?" I asked.

Olaf scoffed. "It may surprise you, _Orphan_, that I am capable of loving someone," he snapped.

I glared at Olaf's silhouette. "Then why did you kill her?"

Olaf snarled, "I didn't kill her."

"You burned down a theater with her inside!"

"I didn't know she would be there," Olaf replied harshly. "I didn't exactly invite her."

I paused for a moment. "Her baby…it was yours, wasn't it? Not her fiancé's?"

Olaf looked at me and then down at my foot. "You're bleeding," he observed.

"It was the broken glass on the floor. I can't reach it to get it out."

Olaf sighed and stood. He reached for the cord that powered the single light bulb. He tugged it, and a bright yellow light filled the room.

I looked up at Olaf's face and saw, with shock, that his eyes were red and wet. I couldn't comprehend that he had been crying; he was a villain, and villains didn't cry.

Olaf stooped down and put his arms under my knees and behind my back. He lifted me effortlessly into the air and set me down on the floor away from the glass. He knelt down to the floor and reached for a small box that was cast away on the floor. He opened it, and I saw that it was a sewing kit. Olaf took a needle and bent it.

"Give me your foot," he ordered.

I leaned my weight back onto my arms and placed my offending foot on his knees. "Why are you doing this?" I asked as he went to work looking for the glass.

"I need you to be able to walk. You've still got chores," he said lamely. He snatched his hand away suddenly. "Ow, fuck!" he whispered. The needle had stabbed him.

"Were you jealous of Kit's fiancé? Is that why you burnt down the Hotel Denouement?" I asked.

"If you don't shut up, I'll shove a bigger piece of glass into your foot and have you run a mile," Olaf threatened.

I felt the bent needle scrape against the lodged bit of glass. Olaf dug the metal into the cut and flipped the glass out. I winced.

Olaf threw the needle and glass to the side and sat on his backside. "Kit and I had our differences," he murmured.

"Like you're a villain and she wasn't," I said.

"Yes," Olaf agreed unexpectedly, though he was distracted, so I wasn't sure if he meant what he said. "She didn't need to die," he added.

I crossed my legs and folded my hands in front of my stomach. "When I do my inventory tomorrow, I'll look for the photo. It can't have gone far, but it might be harder to find now that you've made this mess," I said. I gestured to the chaos that Olaf had created.

Olaf crawled over to me and laid down, putting his head on the little room I had left of my lap. He placed his hand on my midsection. "Has it started to move?" he asked monotonously.

I nodded. "Yeah, about two months ago," I replied, my voice shaky.

"Can you make it move?" Olaf questioned.

"It doesn't work like that." I took a deep breath. "Usually, though, I feel it most right here," I said. I pushed Olaf's hand to the right of my belly button.

We waited in silence, and I was convinced that my baby was not going to move at that hour, but Olaf stayed in place.

I tugged at the tightening fabric of my nightgown. I cleared my throat. "I've outgrown my clothes," I stated matter-of-factly. "I should have gotten new clothes a few weeks ago, but now they truly don't fit anymore." Olaf didn't say anything. "I also need you to…go a bit easier on me. It's still a high-risk pregnancy because of my age."

Olaf continued to stare at my bump.

"Please, Count Olaf. I don't like asking for your help more than you like giving it," I added.

"Fine." He adjusted his head in my lap.

The baby then kicked at my side under Olaf's touch. Olaf clenched his jaw and started to rub his thumb back and forth.

"I'm going into the city tomorrow. I can't have you trying to escape, so you'll come with me. We'll get you some new clothes then," Olaf muttered.

I sighed and shut my eyes in victory. As if to celebrate with me, the baby moved once more inside me. I looked up and around the attic; there were no sounds other than my and Olaf's soft breathing.

Early the next morning, I awoke before he did. I crept as quietly as I could to my trunk to dig through my dresses. My hand dove into each of my dress pockets, searching for the picture of Kit. I listened carefully for any breaks in Olaf's snores.

Finally, in one of the blue dresses folded at the bottom, I felt the stiff paper that I knew to be the picture. A shard of panic stabbed my heart, as I was afraid I had washed the picture with the dress. I pulled the picture out and sighed in relief; the image was still intact. I had apparently forgotten to wash that particular dress, which was not uncommon, as I was busy constantly washing Olaf's dirty clothes.

I took the photo and made my way downstairs to make breakfast. Oatmeal with raspberries would have to do for this morning.

In what was practically perfect timing, I heard Olaf come downstairs and into the dining room just as I poured the oatmeal into his bowl. I poured a cup of coffee and picked up Olaf's bowl to bring it to him.

He sat in his usual spot at the head of the table, rubbing his eyes harshly. Evidently, he had a hangover. I wasn't surprised, seeing as he had had so much to drink at so late of an hour the night before.

I set the bowl and cup in front of Olaf. He didn't comment; he was surprisingly quiet. Instead, he took the coffee and downed at least half of it in one go as if that was the last cup of coffee he was ever going to have.

"I'll bring you some more," I murmured. He didn't acknowledge me.

I brought the coffee pot out with the folded photo hidden in my other hand. I topped off his coffee and sat at the place setting next to him.

I watched him eat for a few moments until he looked up at me and said, "Where's yours?" He gestured to his bowl.

"Not hungry this morning," I replied. I passed the photo back and forth between my hands underneath the table.

"If you think what happened last night changes anything, you are 'swordly' mistaken," Olaf huffed.

"It's 'sorely mistaken,'" I corrected. "And I don't."

Olaf went back to his coffee and oatmeal.

I gathered up the courage to take the photo and place it on the table. I pushed it towards him silently.

Olaf stopped eating and looked at the folded photo. "What's this?" He took the photo and opened it, his breath hitching at the image.

"I found it in the attic this morning," I lied. "It was in one of the trunks you hadn't opened. I guess it's Kit."

Olaf gazed at the picture absently. "It is," he replied shortly. He folded the picture and stuffed it in his inner jacket pocket.

"You're welcome," I muttered sarcastically as I fell back into my seat. The baby didn't like that sudden movement and decided to jab me in my side. I winced and rubbed the painful spot.

Olaf stared at me. After a moment, he said, "I need to meet with the owner of the other theater in the city. They're going to be putting on another of the great Al Funcoot's plays in a few months." He paused. "You're coming with me. After the meeting..." He lowered his voice to a grumble, "We'll see about getting you a new dress."

I cocked my head. "You…you meant it? What you said last night? You're going to get me some new clothes?"

Olaf growled. He pointed a long finger at me. "You're trying my patience, Orphan. Don't say anything else about it or I'll change my mind and have you wear potato sacks."

I closed my mouth and nodded.

Olaf pushed his dishes away and got up. "Hurry up. I don't like to be made late by orphans," he said as he walked away. I took the dishes back to the kitchen and rinsed them out.

I couldn't stop thankful tears from flowing. I was so grateful just to be afforded something nice to wear. It was wishful thinking, but I hoped that Olaf would also allow me to buy a nice onesie for the baby to wear once it was born, or a little toy or blanket. I'd have to get them at one point or another, but I prayed to any deity who would listen that Olaf would be in a good enough mood for that.

I had never been to a more boring meeting than the one which I had just attended with Olaf. It was quite obvious as to why Olaf had chosen that theater to premiere his show: the owner of the theater praised him incessantly about his cleverness and his ability to write such riveting plays. The owner was all too eager to allow Olaf to do whatever he wanted with the production. He was even offered a private dressing room in his contract. The whole thing was laughable, and I would be lying if I said I didn't snicker at some of the owner's—I'll call it what it was—ass-kissing.

I was not, however, about to comment on the owner's blatant false praise, as it put Olaf in a rather positive mood. The meeting, in the end, worked for my benefit.

Olaf parked his car in front of a homey clothing store. I got out of the car and stepped onto the sidewalk. A bright sign was plastered in the window, reading, "Very Flattering Dresses! 40% off!" The initials of the letters were not lost on me.

I heard Olaf's door slam and he stepped up behind me. "I'll be waiting in there, so don't get any ideas about trying to run off," he said to me.

I sighed but refused to turn around to fully acknowledge his threat. Instead, I went into the store with him at my heels.

Nearly all of the decorations in the store were pastel, and, if pastel were also a scent, that's what the inside smelled like, too. Several women were leisurely perusing the many racks of dresses and blouses.

A bouncy woman with curly hair approached me. "Hi, hon! Can I help you find anything today?"

I glanced behind me to Olaf, who waved his hand dismissively and stepped back.

My cheeks turned bright red. "I, um, need some new dresses. I've…outgrown the ones I have," I said quietly. I wasn't prepared for how embarrassing it was to admit that I was getting too big for my current clothes.

The woman was unfazed. "Ok! What's your regular size?"

"I normally wear juniors," I said.

The woman paused to think. "Hmm, I don't think we have any maternity clothes in junior sizes, but we do have a small section." The woman gestured for me to follow her and she pointed to a rack near the back. "Let me know if you need to try anything on."

I approached the rack. "Thank you," I said.

"Oh!" The woman stopped before she walked off. "Congratulations! Your dad must be so excited!" She thumbed toward Olaf, who had actually managed to start flirting with some of the older patrons. The woman left. I rolled my eyes at her assumption.

Flipping through the rack, I found several dresses that I found were very similar to my usual style. I knew Olaf would probably only allow me to pick out two or three, so I had to make absolutely certain that these would last me for the rest of my pregnancy.

After about a half an hour of looking, I grabbed about seven garments and approached a different employee for a dressing room key. They pointed me to the wall of doors in the back. I thanked them and made my way to the last door.

I set the garments on the hangers behind the door. Before I could even start to remove my current dress, I heard a knock.

"There's someone in here," I called.

"Yes, I was told you need some help with your _very flattering dresses_, Miss Baudelaire," the woman said from the other side of the door.

I recognized the voice immediately as Jacquelyn. I quickly opened the door to find the woman smiling at me. She stepped into the dressing room and offered me a hug, which I gladly took.

"Jacquelyn, how did you find me?" I asked.

"This is a V.F.D. store. I was alerted when you and Olaf stepped across the threshold. Word travels fast amongst volunteers," Jacquelyn explained. "And I was in the area." Her face went serious. "How are you feeling?"

I smirked and put a hand to the small of my back. "Aching and exhausted, but hardly any appetite."

Jacquelyn gave me a sympathetic look. She removed a dress from its hanger and held it up. "I know you don't have much time, so I'll try and explain what's been happening while you try these on."

I nodded. Jacquelyn looked to the side and held the dress in front of her face to give me a bit of privacy. I began to take off my dress.

"We've been able to successfully locate your brother and sister, Klaus and Sunny," she told me.

My heart leaped with joy. "Where are they? Are they safe?" I tossed my old dress to the side. I took the one Jacquelyn held up and slipped it over my head.

"They've been sent to work at Lucky Smells Lumber Mill. There are very few volunteers left in that area since the schism, but thankfully there was one who received word that we were searching for two very specific children," Jacquelyn explained.

I smoothed the dress out and pulled my long hair to the side. Jacquelyn zipped me up in the back and then turned me to the mirror. "What do you think?" she asked.

The dress was orange, and I wasn't particularly a fan of that color. I shook my head, and Jacquelyn took up the next dress and held it up like a curtain.

"Unfortunately, the volunteer cannot extract your siblings, as they've been placed under hypnosis to keep them productive."

I rehung the orange dress and placed it back on the door. I took the next dress, which was a pastel pink. "How could I have let this happen to them?" I asked myself.

"None of this is your fault, Violet."

My eyes started to water. "I can't even take care of or help my siblings!"

"Klaus and Sunny are physically fine," Jacquelyn reassured me.

"You said that they had gone to the hospital the last time you saw me!" I cried. Tears began to stream down my face.

Jacquelyn hushed me. "We had a volunteer at the hospital look into it: Sunny had a splinter that they couldn't remove at Lucky Smells. It ended up being completely fine, Violet."

I pulled the pink dress over my head and flipped my hair out from the neck hole. This dress was much better in terms of color.

"Now that we know where your siblings are, we'll be monitoring them and trying to break the hypnosis. We're also trying to work out a plan in which Olaf cannot come after any of you, so, unfortunately, you cannot leave yet."

"I like this one," I mentioned quietly, gesturing to the dress.

"Please don't fret, Violet. We are working as fast as possible to get you out of Olaf's clutches."

I turned around to Jacquelyn. "I don't know anything about V.F.D. How can I trust any of you?" I asked.

Jacquelyn opened and closed her mouth in a bit of shock. "We're noble people, Violet. Make no mistake," she said.

I lowered my head. "I'm sorry. I just…" I sighed. "I just want us to be safe." I placed both of my hands on my bump. "_All_ of us."

Jacquelyn smiled sadly. "And you will be. I promise." Her expression brightened. "Let me give you something that will explain everything you want to know about V.F.D. I'll leave it in Olaf's attic for you to find." I nodded.

There was a brief silence. "I shouldn't keep you much longer, and I must go. I'm going to continue wishing you the best of luck, Violet. Take care of your baby, and stay out of Olaf's way," she instructed.

Jacquelyn then slipped out of the dressing room without another word.

The next day, Olaf put me back to work. He did not, however, force me to do any heavy lifting or very strenuous work. It was mainly returning objects back to the attic that his troupe had used in their rehearsal the night before.

After a fairly decent lunch, which Olaf complained about very little, I trekked up to the attic for what must have been the fifth time that day. That time, I was to bring down the script to a play that Olaf, or rather Al Funcoot, had written several years ago.

When I reached the attic, I stretched and found myself rather winded. I had on one of my new dresses, and I was continually thankful that I had been afforded that. I looked around the attic; a large book sitting on top of one of the trunks caught my eye. I was positive it had not been there before.

I approached the book and found that, on the cover, it read, _The Incomplete History of Secret Organizations_. I immediately recognized the book as the one Jacquelyn promised to me.

Flipping open the cover, I noticed a card envelope attached to the inside addressed to me. I furrowed my brow and opened the envelope. Inside was a plain card with Jacquelyn's loopy handwriting inside.

I read the note, murmuring to myself, "'Dear Violet, My records indicated that, today, you are turning fifteen. Happy Birthday to you. Sincerely, Jacquelyn.'" I gasped. She was right. It was my birthday today.

My heart wrenched at the realization that I had forgotten my own birthday, something that, while my parents were alive, I never did. I would always remind anyone who would listen that my birthday was coming up, and I would tell everyone what I wanted: a science book, a new inventing notebook, or tools. I swallowed. All I wanted this year was for this nightmare to end.

I took up the book and found the script Olaf wanted. As I went downstairs, I took a detour to hide the book underneath my side of the mattress in Olaf's bedroom. For several nights, I could not get up my courage to sneak away to read the book.

I knew my siblings and my baby counted on me. I was supposed to know everything, seeing as I was the eldest. It was my duty to find out about the V.F.D. and how our parents were involved.

Anxiety set in. The longer I delayed reading the book, the more terrified I became. I was scared of this V.F.D. My parents were a part of an organization that fought fires, yet they were killed in one. And where had the V.F.D. been when the theatre burnt down, or when the Hotel Denouement was reduced to ashes?

Fire haunted me as the catalyst for my misfortune, and it seemed to continue with the V.F.D.


	8. Eight

I was standing on the front step of my parents' house. The beautiful, familiar scent of English roses wrapped around me as the warm spring sun hung high above me. My home was still there, and not burnt to the ground. It somehow felt alive.

Two hands grasped mine: one the size of my own hand and a small set of fingers curled around my index finger. I looked to Klaus, his hair neat and glasses firm on his nose. He smiled.

"Mother and Father have a surprise for us," Klaus said.

"Tebbo!" Sunny squealed on my other side, meaning, "Let's go see them!"

I smiled at Sunny and nodded. I pulled my hair back and used my ribbon to tie it back. I opened the door.

Everything was as it should be. The paintings, the lamps, the coffee table books—they were all there.

"Mother?" I called.

"In here!" Her voice rang out as clear as day in our living room. I dashed from Klaus and Sunny to meet our mother.

I stopped at the entrance to the living room, happy tears falling from my eyes. There stood my mother and father.

Something wasn't right, though. They're backs were turned to me and they were looking down at something that they held. They were too quiet.

"Mother?" I asked. They didn't move. I stepped towards them. "Father? What's wrong?"

As I reached out to touch my mother's shoulder, they spun around, their faces wet from crying and their eyes dark with anger and disappointment. I looked down to see my mother holding a bundle.

"How could you be so stupid, Violet?" Mother snapped, disdain tearing from her lips.

My father shook his head. "Such a silly little girl," he said. His voice was strangled somehow, as if someone had been choking him.

My mother held out the bundle in front of me. "I'm glad we died so that we wouldn't have to see what a disappointment you turned out to be," she added.

Everything around me started to feel incredibly hot. My skin burned as if the sun had suddenly settled on top of me.

"You abandoned Klaus and Sunny," my father accused. "You failed them and lost their fortune." I shuddered when I heard two voices come from my father's mouth: his and Count Olaf's.

"No, no I didn't!" I cried. I backed away, the heat causing burns to appear on my arms. "It's not my fault!"

I turned around, only to be surrounded by orange flames engulfing my house. "Klaus! Sunny!" I screamed. I had to save them, but they were not behind me as they had been.

I started to run through the house, fire dancing at my heels. I called my siblings' names over and over. Second-degree burns mottled my arms and legs, and my tears evaporated from my face faster than they came out.

I ran to my room, smoke constricting my lungs and nearly making me pass out. My room was untouched by the inferno; it was dark and nearly everything was still in its place as far as I could tell. The only thing that stood out to me was the silhouette of a man.

"You failed everyone, Violet," the man said to me.

I sniffed. "It's not my fault," I whimpered. "None of this is."

The man cocked his head to the side. He fumbled with something in his pocket, and I heard a match strike. He brought the lit match to his face.

"Everyone thinks it is," Olaf said with a smirk. He dropped the match, and a burst of flames exploded from the ground in front of me.

I jerked awake with a scream, my heart thudding in my chest as though it was trying to escape.

"Jesus!" Olaf shouted as he too awoke with a start. "What the fuck?"

I pressed my hands to my eyes and shrank away from him as much as I could. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I repeated.

I felt Olaf sit up in bed behind my back. "What the hell happened?" he asked, groaning. "I've got a fucking headache, now, Orphan."

I said nothing, but I continued to cry into the darkness of my palms. Olaf huffed and snatched one of my wrists. He pulled me over to lie on my back.

His anger softened slightly upon seeing me. I could only imagine how pathetic I looked for Olaf to even feel a little sorry for me. My bangs were plastered against my forehead with sweat and my cheeks were hot. He had seen me cry many times before, but I had no clue as to why this time would be any different.

Olaf's features hardened once more. "Go and get something to drink. You need it," he said.

My voice cracked, "I can't have alcohol—"

"I meant water, Orphan!" Olaf scoffed and pushed himself back down into the mattress.

I sighed at his demand and propped myself up on my forearms.

"Just make sure you bring me back a bottle of wine," Olaf added.

I nodded, even though I knew he couldn't see me. "Red or white?"

"I don't care. Grab the first bottle you see," he replied.

With some difficulty, I stood and began to slowly make my way out. I felt a sudden pang of hunger and craving sweep through me. I silently cursed myself, as I hated that part about my pregnancy. I could handle being sick or upset, but having sudden and unrelenting desires for food was terrible when I had to ask to make something to satisfy me.

I argued with myself on whether or not to ask Olaf if I could make something. When I reached the door to leave his room, I turned around. "Count Olaf?" I asked timidly.

"What?"

I shut my eyes and cradled my bump. "C-can I..." My voice died in my throat.

"What?" he sharply reiterated.

"Can I make something to eat? Something small, nothing too major," I finished quickly.

There was a brief pause. "Is it one of those pregnancy craving things?" he asked. "'Cause if it is, I don't have any pickles or ice cream—"

"No, it's just—" I stopped. "Can I make toast?"

"Make whatever you fucking want. Just bring me back some damn wine," Olaf grunted. He clapped his hand over his eyes and rubbed them.

"Thank you," I murmured before I made my way downstairs.

I padded to the dark kitchen and quickly turned on the light. A lump formed in my throat as I began to search for the bread and butter. It was silly, but that small kindness (whether kindness was Olaf's intention or not) was threatening to bring me to tears.

_If he wasn't so terrible already_, I thought, _I wouldn't be so effected by it._ It was true: my expectations of treatment were damaged.

When I got back upstairs, I thought for sure that Olaf would have fallen back asleep. I had brought the wine just in case he hadn't, but, though he was lying back down, he wasn't snoring like he usually did.

He must have heard me at the door, because he asked, "What kind did you bring?"

I glanced at the bottle's label. "Roscato?"

Olaf made a face and sat up. "Too sweet." He glanced at me and held out his hand. "It's better than nothing," he added.

I gave him the bottle, which he then opened and took several large gulps. I felt nauseous watching him, unable to imagine how he couldn't not be sick. His mouth twisted in distaste for the drink's apparent sweetness.

I got back into bed next to Olaf, propping myself up against the headboard. As exhausted as I was, I was afraid to go back to sleep in case of more fire-filled nightmares. I placed both my hands on the top of my belly and picked anxiously at my nails.

Olaf leaned back as well and crossed his arms across his bare chest, still holding onto the wine bottle. I could feel his piercing eyes on me after seeing him turn from the corner of my eye.

"Why were you screaming?" he asked sharply.

I didn't answer, but rather I shifted uncomfortably.

Olaf's eyes widened, but then he groaned and let his head fall back to the headboard with a thud. "Is it time?" He sighed.

"What do you mean?" I looked at him.

He rolled his head to the side to glower at me. "You know," he snapped. He made a flowing motion with his arms near his groin.

"Oh! No, no," I replied. "The baby isn't coming, yet."

"Thank God," Olaf growled.

I looked back down to my stomach. "It was a nightmare."

Olaf rubbed his forehead. "Oh, yeah?" he asked, disinterested.

"What, you never have nightmares?" I snapped back.

"Not since I was twelve." He scoffed and took another gulp of his wine.

I chuckled humorlessly. "That's a lie." Olaf whipped his head around and glared at me. "I'm a light sleeper, here of late. I hear you calling out in your sleep," I pointed out.

Olaf's face went red. "So I talk in my goddamn sleep. That doesn't prove that I have nightmares." He set the wine bottle on the nightstand beside him.

We were silent for a moment or two. The baby moved inside me, and I brought my hand protectively to cover the place I felt the kick. I swallowed. "I dream about my parents, too," I murmured. I felt Olaf bristle immediately, but I didn't look up. "Sometimes I see them and they're fine, but sometimes I'm there in the house while it's..." I found I couldn't finish the sentence. Tears began to form in my eyes. I sniffed.

Olaf grunted and shifted down in the bed. "Go back to sleep, Orphan," he said.

I wiped away the wetness from my eyes and sniffed again. "You were there, too. In the dream."

"I suppose that's what made it the nightmare," he said without turning around.

I didn't want to reply; he was right. The nightmare was centered around the fire and him. Those were the two uncontrollable villains in my life. I laid flat on the bed, trying to adjust the pillow beneath my head so that my back wouldn't hurt as much. My eyesight trained up to the stained ceiling before I shut my eyes.

I heard Olaf roll over and could once again feel him staring. He stayed like that awhile, and I could tell he was trying to see if I was asleep again.

Quite suddenly, I felt a hand on the top of my belly. I shifted slightly to mask the fact that I was startled. Olaf lifted a bit of the weight from his hand in shock, but settled back again.

My skin burned beneath my nightgown where his hand rested. I wanted to push him away from me and the baby, but I remembered that it was his child as well. He shifted closer to me, his hand now fully pressed against my abdomen. Olaf began to rub his fingertips back and forth against the fabric of my nightgown. Uncomfortable goosebumps swept across my skin. I kept my eyes shut.

"'Man hands on misery to man,'" Olaf whispered to my bump. "'It deepens like a coastal shelf.'"

I realized he was reciting poetry.

His tone darkened. "'Get out as early as you can,' kid," he addressed our baby. "'And don't have any _fucking_ kids yourself.'"

I rolled over on my side away from him, trying to pretend that I was still asleep. Olaf snatched his hand away when I moved. I brought my knees as close to my body as I could and hunched my shoulders away from Olaf.

After a few moments, Olaf moved closer to me and returned his hand to its previous place on my belly.

Tears began to flow from my eyes to my pillow. I wanted to die. I didn't want this anymore. I decided I didn't want our—_my_—baby to grow up under Olaf's control and possession. Because that's exactly what it was: _possession_.

A few nights after, I decided to read the V.F.D. entry. It was silly how I had put it off. I had nothing to fear about the organization itself; like Jacquelyn had said, it was a noble organization filled with good volunteers. The night I decided to read it, I laid awake for hours making sure that Olaf was in a deep enough sleep so that I could sneak the book to the bathroom and read.

Once I was positive that Olaf's snores were deep and even, I slowly inched my way out of the bed and removed the book from underneath the mattress.

Once I was in the bathroom, I flipped through the book, searching for the entry on the Volunteer Fire Department.

Once I found the section, I devoured every word I could until I became to sleepy to understand what I was reading about initiation and eye tattoos.

I awoke with a jolt, the charred remains of a nightmare vanishing from my mind. I looked around; I had fallen asleep in the bathroom while reading. I had gotten to the section break that was about to detail a schism that occurred between volunteers. I stretched, but stopped short when I didn't feel the heavy book against my legs. I looked down to see that the book was missing.

I propped my arm against the tub I had leaned against and stood as quickly as I could. I frantically looked around for the leather-bound tome. It wasn't there.

I dashed out of the bathroom and towards Olaf's bed. It was empty. Panic surged through my veins.

I shuffled down the stairs, feeling the air grow warmer around me. _Is it another fire?_ I thought to myself. I hoped that it wasn't.

"Count Olaf!" I called out. A panic attack was washing over me, and at that point, I just wanted someone to answer me.

The closer I got to the parlor, the louder the crackle of a fire became. My heart thudded in my chest so hard I thought it would burst from my chest.

I got to the doorway of the parlor and saw Olaf hunched over the glowing fireplace. Crumpled and burnt papers littered the floor around him. I heard him rip some paper, and I realized that he was destroying the book.

"What are you doing? That was my book!" I screamed. I clambered over to him and tried to reach around him to seize the book.

He shoved me back, and I lost my balance. I fell heavily to the floor with a shriek. Fear gripped me as I realized that my baby could have been seriously hurt. I placed a hand on my stomach protectively and tried to focus on whether or not I could feel if something was wrong.

"A book filled with nothing but bullshit about volunteers and noble efforts," Olaf snapped nastily. He chucked the whole book into the fire and spun around. His eyes shone and his brow was furrowed deeply. "How did you get it?"

I felt my baby move for several seconds and sighed in relief that it was still active. I glared at Olaf. "You could have hurt us!"

"How did you get the book, you goddamn brat?" Olaf shouted, his dark figure towering over me. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pocketknife. "Tell me, now!"

I shifted back. "You wouldn't use that on me! It's all just a silly act!" I countered.

Olaf dove to the floor and crawled on top of me, pushing me flat against the ground and pressing the tip of the knife above my belly button. "You don't think I fucking would?" Olaf snarled in my face. He moved the blade up right below my ribcage and lightly dragged it down and over my belly. "You don't think I would cut you open right now and let you bleed to death without even getting to hold your precious baby?" He returned the knife to its original spot above my navel. "You don't know _half_ of what I could fucking do, _Baudelaire_," he spat out my name.

Tears streamed from my eyes and into my hair. "You _monster_," I hissed. "How could you live with hurting your own child?"

Olaf was silent for a moment, yet his hateful expression never waivered. "Who gave you the book?" he snarled. Olaf jabbed the tip of the knife into my skin just enough to draw blood.

I sobbed at the sharp pain. "It was Jacquelyn!" I blurted. "She sent it to me!"

Olaf smirked and leaned back. He took the knife away and pocketed it. "How have you been contacting her?"

I swallowed thickly, thinking up a quick lie. He couldn't know that Jacquelyn was coming to his house, or else he might be waiting for her. "The phones. It's only been the phones, so that you wouldn't know," I replied. I tried to put on my most truthful expression.

Olaf raised one side of his eyebrow. "Then all of the phones will be gone by the end of the day," he responded as he stood. He began to walk out of the room. "Make sure you clean up all that ash from the fire." He looked back over his shoulder. "Oh, and make sure you take care of that cut of yours. It looks pretty bad." Olaf laughed in his throat as he set to work finding all of the landlines in his house.

I was confined to the house indefinitely. I was not even allowed in the garden. Olaf kept a watchful eye over me, no matter what I did. Sometimes, as he worked on his scenes or writing, he would have me sit in the room just so he would know that I wasn't out trying to contact Jacquelyn.

I hadn't heard from her in weeks, and I was beginning to worry if she was going to be successful in reversing the hypnosis that Klaus and Sunny were put under at the lumber mill. My heart broke when I thought of Klaus and Sunny being forced to enjoy their hard labor.

As I scrubbed the kitchen floor one day, my thoughts turned back to my siblings. _At least_, I said to myself, _they can't be miserable_. I felt every emotion and every single pain, both physical and emotional, but they were hypnotized as Jacquelyn had said.

I suddenly became enraged and jealous of them. If their hypnosis was ever broken, it was unlikely they would remember their jobs. I was made to be conscious for every second. Why couldn't Olaf have just married me and sent me away? I jammed the cleaning brush back and forth aggressively against the floor as all these questions bombarded my mind. Why did he have to get me pregnant? Why did it have to be Olaf? Why was Mr. Poe in charge of placing us with our new guardian? Why were my parents killed in a fire?

In fierce rage, I hurled the brush across the kitchen, the tool clattering aggressively against some cabinets. I shifted from my knees to a sitting position and began to just cry. "Why me?" I sobbed aloud, not caring if anyone heard me. My body wracked with tears; it felt as though every single sadness that ever existed in the universe was using me as a vessel to expel.

I looked down at my pregnant belly and began to sob for a brand new reason: I wasn't ready to be a mother, yet Olaf forced it upon me. Taking care of Sunny was a challenge, but she was only my sister; how was I going to parent a child when I was still a child myself?

I finished my task of cleaning the kitchen floor and was just about to start the next job of dusting everything when a knock resounded at the front door.

"Get the door, Orphan, and tell them to fuck off," Olaf shouted from the parlor.

"I'm not going to say _that_ to anyone," I said about his swearing.

"Just tell them to go away! I'm not seeing anyone!"

I stepped heavily into the foyer and placed my hand on the door handle. Through the window to the side I could see it was a rather bird-like man wearing a terrible facial disguise. I opened the door.

"I'm sorry, Count Olaf isn't seeing anyone today," I said to the man.

The man shook his head. "Oh! I'm not here for him. I'm here to raise money for the rights of dazed workers. I'm with a group called _Victims of Foreign Deceit_, you see. My name is…" He paused for a moment as if to think of a false name. "Harry," he said, emphatically pronouncing the group's name. My heart seized and my face brightened. It was someone from V.F.D. 'Harry' rotated his finger to gesture for me to keep the guise going.

"Oh, yes, I see," I replied.

"Would you like to sign your name for our pledge?" 'Harry' handed me a clipboard that read, "Hypnosis broken."

My eyes widened at the news. I started to speak, but Olaf bellowed from his spot in the parlor, "I said get rid of them!" 'Harry' glanced over my head, a glare plastered on his face.

"I can't give money, but I'll sign," I said.

'Harry' quickly handed me a pen, and I wrote my message on the clipboard: "Tell Jacquelyn he burned the book. Unsafe right now. Be careful."

I handed the pen back to 'Harry' who scribbled something and held it up for me to see while saying, "Thank you so much, ma'am. You have a very fine day." He held up an OK symbol over his eye and turned to leave.

I shut the door and turned back into the foyer. Olaf stalked up in front of me. "Why the fuck wouldn't they leave?" He sneered as he craned his neck to see the retreating figure through the window.

"It was some rights group campaigning," I replied.

Olaf's face became stony. "You didn't give them any money, did you?" I shook my head and he breathed out, crossing his arms. "Good. Greedy fuckers." He scoffed and turned away, the irony of what he said clearly not connecting.

Despite the burdensome tasks I had lined up for the rest of the day, I found myself smiling at 'Harry's' message: "Expect extraction within fortnight."


	9. Nine

A week and a half later, I woke up terribly sore and exhausted. It was nearly impossible for me to get a good night's sleep anymore as I was constantly up and down all night to relieve myself, and none of my sleeping positions were comfortable. I could tell that there were going to be dark circles underneath my eyes.

I shifted in the bed and found a position that alleviated some of my back pain. It was heavenly to not be hurting for at least a few moments, so I froze, not wanting anything to ruin my brief relaxation.

Olaf must have felt my slight movement, because he groaned and rolled over to face me, wrapping his arm around my stomach.

I sighed and turned my head. I couldn't tell if he truly wanted to acknowledge his upcoming foray into fatherhood or not; most days, Olaf was cold and manipulative as he forced me to complete tedious chores that required a lot of grunt work on my part. Of course, due to my condition, it just wasn't possible for me to complete the chores he wanted doing as quickly as I would have were I not carrying his baby. That would then warrant him hurling insults and yelling at me at the end of the day. It used to make me cry, but now, it was just routine. The worst days would end with him aggressively having sex with me. He found that I couldn't fight back as hard as I used to early on in my pregnancy; I supposed it made him feel increasingly powerful over me.

Other days, Olaf would perhaps briefly come to terms with the fact that he was going to be a father. In his own twisted way of being 'nice', he would leave me on my own in his house and let me do what I wanted as long as I didn't disturb him. When he would see me, he would wordlessly stare at me as if he was trying to convince himself that I was actually real. He would come to bed drunk out of his mind and curl up next to me on the mattress and recite poetry to the baby. I found it awkward, to say the least, but I didn't want to anger him, especially if he was already intoxicated.

I went to move away from his offending arm, but my back spasmed aggressively, causing my breath to catch in my chest.

"You're not leaving yet, Orphan," Olaf murmured, half-awake.

The pain quickly subsided. "Don't you want breakfast?" I asked. I didn't want him to touch me anymore, especially since it was a sure plan that I would be rescued soon.

"Not hungry right now," Olaf grumbled as he nudged himself closer to my body. He began to stroke the side of my belly with his thumb; it was going to be one of the latter-type days.

I laid in bed silently, not knowing what to do, so I just thought. I thought about how I would soon leave Olaf's tyranny and join my siblings with our new lives. I thought about V.F.D. and it's connection with my parents. I even thought about the eye tattoo on Olaf's ankle, which didn't scare me as much as it had before _The Marvelous Marriage_. In fact, I found myself interested as to why he even had a V.F.D. tattoo. It seemed impossible that he would have been a part of such a noble organization. He was not a noble man at all.

A sharp kick inside me drew me from my musings. I looked over to Olaf, who barely seemed to react at all.

"What day is it?" I asked quietly.

Olaf yawned, his morning breath causing me to nearly gag. "The 13th," he responded shortly.

I rested my head back on my pillow. Bringing a hand to my bump, I did some quick mental calculations. I was thirty-six weeks along at that point. I was surprised that I hadn't had the baby sooner, seeing as I was just a teenager. It would probably be any day now. I smiled lightly, hoping that Klaus and Sunny would be present for the birth of their niece or nephew.

As I had suspected, Olaf was in a more generous mood that entire day: his only chore for me that day was to make a singularly spectacular meal for his troupe, as they were celebrating something that he didn't care to elaborate on. It had been about a month since Olaf's actors had called around, and I had enjoyed that time of no additional insults or cleaning that I knew I would have to do.

My back ached severely as I picked up the large tray of drinks for Olaf's troupe. I had noticed that all day, my back and sides would seize in painful spasms. I was worried that I might perhaps be going into labor, but I reasoned that it was most likely false contractions.

With the tray, I slowly made my way into the parlor, my large bump leading the way. In the cacophony of laughter and perverse merriment, I offered the actors their drinks.

"My dear Countess," Olaf called to me. I looked up as I placed each drink before the actors. "Your roast beef was bone dry this evening. It was as if your snotty brother had made it."

I swallowed hard. "Roast beef is difficult, Count Olaf. It takes time to perfect it," I replied.

Olaf chuckled humorlessly. "Well, you need to keep trying, because it was shit. How do you expect to care for our little _bundle of joy_ if you can't even feed _us_ properly?" He gestured to the table.

I gritted my teeth, knowing that I probably would not have to think about making another roast beef again. "Fine," I murmured. I turned to go back to the kitchen, but my back spasmed again, and I had to stop.

"I didn't say you could go back to the kitchen," Olaf snapped. "Come stand by me, little Countess." I obeyed.

"Little?" one of the white-faced women jeered. "She's so fat now!"

"Much fatter than she was last time!" her sister added with a witchy cackle.

The troupe laughed uproariously. When I reached Olaf, he pulled me to his side, still laughing with the group. "For shame!" he said dramatically. "Don't make fun of the girl who is to have my 'hair.'" Sarcasm dripped from his voice at that. Olaf placed his arm around my waist and made a show of rubbing my belly.

"It's 'heir,'" I corrected.

Olaf rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

The hook-handed man stopped laughing suddenly and looked at Olaf. "I thought I was your heir?"

Olaf, once again, rolled his eyes. "I only told you that that day to get you to shut up," he grumbled.

I kept glancing to the foyer, hoping to see Jacquelyn burst in with Klaus and Sunny in tow.

I abruptly felt another spasm, this time in my stomach, causing me to press a hand against my side. I tried to step away and I murmured to Olaf, "I'm not feeling well."

Olaf grabbed a handful of the side of my dress and jerked me back. He pulled my head down and hissed through gritted teeth, "You don't go until I say you go."

I felt the twinge grow stronger and more uncomfortable. "Please, Olaf, I'm not feeling well—"

Olaf snatched my wrist. "You are not going anywhere, you brat!"

Suddenly, warm liquid began to gush down my leg and onto the floor. The room grew quiet immediately. Everyone, including me, looked down to the puddle on the carpet beneath me.

"She's pissed herself!" the hench-person of indeterminate gender cried out suddenly. Everyone turned to look at them.

"No, her water's broken. She's in labor." A familiar voice rang out from the doorway to the parlor. I looked up to see Klaus in a mill jumpsuit and disheveled hair. Sunny was there on his hip, and she shouted, "Geebah!", which I knew to mean, "We need to get her to the hospital!"

Olaf leaped to his feet, his mouth gaping. "How did you—?"

Jacquelyn entered the room, holding a harpoon gun and aiming it squarely at Olaf's chest. "There were a few volunteers that you missed, Olaf," she said.

Olaf's brow furrowed in anger. "I should have killed you that day in your office when I had the chance."

Jacquelyn smiled triumphantly. "A grave mistake on your part. Now tell your friends to leave immediately."

Olaf glanced to the harpoon gun, and for the first time, I saw a bit of fear in his eyes.

"Leave," he said to his troupe. No one moved. "Go, now!" he repeated.

"Boss, do we start the f—?" the hook-handed man started.

"No, you fucking imbeciles! Just scatter!" Olaf bellowed after him.

Olaf's troupe quickly stood and practically ran out of the house. He was left alone, his hands raised as Jacquelyn inched closer to him with the harpoon gun.

Olaf raised one side of his unibrow. "What now? You gonna kill me?" he asked.

Before Jacquelyn could answer, I felt a hard contraction grip me from the inside, and I screamed.

"Violet!" Klaus called as he put Sunny in a chair and ran to my side.

I wrapped my arms around my stomach. "I didn't know this was happening at all," I cried.

"You thought they were Braxton-Hicks?" Klaus asked me. I nodded. Klaus grabbed my elbow and lowered me into Olaf's chair. Olaf spun around and waved his hand in my face.

"Get out of my seat, Orphan!" Olaf demanded.

"Leave her alone! The last thing she needs is to be harassed by you!" Klaus shouted angrily.

Olaf pushed Klaus to the side and leaned into his personal space. "How dare you speak to me like that, you brat! I can do whatever I want to her. She is _my_ wife and she's having _my_ child!"

"Oh, now it's your child?" I sobbed, the sharp contraction slowing. "You've threatened my baby's safety and now when it's time for it to come into the world you say it's your child?"

Klaus turned to me, his eyes wide. "Threatened?" he repeated.

Jacquelyn, still aiming at Olaf, said, "Of, course you threatened her, you monster." Olaf sneered and rolled his eyes. Jacquelyn looked at my brother. "Klaus, I need you to go call for help."

Olaf smirked. "I threw out all the phones after I decided to keep my Countess at home all the time."

Klaus growled and turned back to me. "I'll go get someone." He took my hand in his. "I'll be back before you know it."

I shook my head. "Klaus, no. Please, stay with me. I need you!" I pleaded.

"Olaf can't go," Jacquelyn observed. "He'll just escape."

"Ootsee!" Sunny babbled, which meant, "I'll go!"

I shook my head again and grunted. "Sunny, you're just a baby yourself."

Jacquelyn sighed after thinking for a moment. "Klaus, take the harpoon gun," she said. She moved to Klaus. "I know who to get."

"I can't take it," he replied.

Jacquelyn held the gun to Klaus, the harpoon trained at Olaf's chest. "I'll go and get help. I know you're a smart young man."

Klaus glanced at me. "What if something goes wrong, Violet?" he asked me.

"I trust you, Klaus," I muttered.

Klaus paused to think. "We need to move her to a bed," he stated. He grabbed the harpoon gun from Jacquelyn and pointed it back to Olaf. Jacquelyn nodded swiftly and ran from the house. Klaus continued, "It's not an ideal position to lie down while giving birth, but it's better than in here." Klaus gestured around him.

"Gahma?" Sunny cooed, meaning, "What is the ideal position?"

I shook my head. "I don't think you want to know, Sunny," I replied.

Klaus directed his attention to and stared at Olaf. "You need to help us move her."

"I don't need to do anything," Olaf said dismissively.

"Olaf!" I screamed. "Do just one good thing in your life and help me! This is still your baby!"

Olaf looked back and forth between Klaus and me. "I...can't."

"Why not?" Klaus questioned.

As my back spasmed with the end of the contraction, I winced and gritted my teeth. "Olaf, you told me that everyone does something villainous in their life, but I believe everyone also does something noble." Tears came to my eyes in pain. "Olaf, please, do this one noble thing, and help me have your baby."

Olaf's features softened slightly. "Fine," he sighed. He came over to me and carefully placed his arms under my knees and behind my back and picked me up. He made it seem effortless as he hoisted me bridal style. He gestured his head to Klaus and Sunny.

Klaus picked up Sunny and pointed the harpoon gun at Olaf's back. Olaf began to climb the stairs and I felt his arms begin to tremble. His expression didn't let on that he was tiring and he kept going.

Olaf brought me to his room and placed me on his bed. "Is that all?" he asked Klaus.

I breathed deeply as I paced back and forth in Olaf's bedroom. Klaus and Sunny sat on the bed as they kept an eye on Klaus' watch. Olaf sat in a chair in the corner of the room farthest to the door.

"How long do these things normally last?" Olaf asked, clearly impatient.

"Labor can last up to 36 hours," Klaus snapped at Olaf.

I groaned, not wanting to have this pain for several more hours. I stopped, feeling another contraction start. I grabbed the baseboard of the bed and squeezed my eyes shut. I let out a long grunt as the contraction tore through me.

"It's all right, Violet, just breathe," Klaus reassured me. "You said that you had felt contractions all day?" I nodded. "It shouldn't be too much longer, then."

The pain finally passed. I stood upright and looked at Klaus. "How far apart are they now?"

Klaus looked back at me. "Four minutes."

I sobbed and rubbed my sweaty forehead. Klaus stood and came up to me. "I can't do this, Klaus! They've been four minutes apart for the past hour. What if something's wrong?"

"Hey," Klaus said, taking my shoulder. "Everything's going to be all right. Jacquelyn's coming back, and when she does, everything will be fine." I nodded. Klaus smiled. "And besides, it's not every day I become an uncle."

"Bahnee!" Sunny added, which meant, "Or an aunt!"

"Blah, blah, blah," Olaf sneered in the corner. "Can you push or not?"

I heard stomping feet as two people ascended the staircase. Jacquelyn entered Olaf's room with the man who had introduced himself as Harry, sans his dreadful disguise. He came up to me and smiled. "Hello again, Violet. I apologize for giving you a fake name. I'm really Doctor—"

"Larry?" Olaf interrupted, standing. "I thought you were a waiter!"

Larry cocked his head. "I dabble," he said simply.

Olaf's eyebrow pitched up. "But since when were you a doctor?"

Larry looked at Olaf, his face deadpan. "Since I decided to do something with my life other than just starting villainous fires and telling everyone I'm an impresario," Larry snapped.

Klaus huffed, "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid there's no time for insults and bickering." He handed Jacquelyn the harpoon gun and she aimed it back at Olaf. Klaus then helped Larry lay me back down on the bed. He picked up Sunny and went to the opposite side of the bed.

"What's been going on?" Larry asked Klaus, flashing me a comforting smile.

"I've been timing her contractions. They're approximately four minutes apart," Klaus explained to Larry.

"Good job, young man," Larry told Klaus. Larry leaned over me and smiled. "Can you tell me if there were any health problems, Violet?"

"I had a hospital visit for anemia, but that cleared up when I took the medicine the doctor gave me," I said.

"What about the baby? Did anything show up on ultrasounds?"

I shook my head. "Not on the one at the hospital. I never went to the doctor other than that," I responded quietly.

Larry glared back at Olaf. "That doesn't surprise me." Larry turned his attention back to me. He took a stethoscope out of his bag. "You mind if I take a listen?"

I shook my head and pulled up my nightgown under my breast. Larry put in the ear pieces and breathed on the disc of the stethoscope. He placed the metal against my belly and moved it around. "From what I can tell, heartbeat sounds normal," Larry said after a few moments.

I felt my muscles start to tighten as another contraction hit me. "Breathe," Larry calmly instructed as he sat down next to me.

The contraction passed finally. I looked up at Klaus. "Still around four minutes."

I brought my hands up to my eyes and started to cry. Larry took my hands. "It's OK, Violet, it's all right. Don't get upset. I'm going to do everything I can go make sure your baby comes out all right," he told me.

I nodded. "I'm just really scared," I whispered.

"It's OK to be scared, Violet," Jacquelyn added. I craned my neck to view her. She smiled at me the gun still pointed at Olaf.

Larry stood again. "I'm just going to check something, OK?" He pressed his hands on my belly, shifting them around and applying pressure. He made an odd face and was silent.

"What's wrong?" I asked, panic rising in my voice.

Larry sat back down on the bed. "I can't tell whether or not your baby is breached," he told me. "Breach means—"

"—Feet first," Klaus finished. His face contorted in fear. "Violet..."

"I can't tell for sure, Klaus," Larry repeated. "Breach births can happen in teen pregnancies, unfortunately." He sent a dark glare toward Olaf.

I propped myself up on my elbows. "What do we do?"

Larry sighed. "Unfortunately, we can't move you. I can't really tell without the right equipment. I'm sorry, Violet, but all we can do is wait."

I swallowed hard. I looked at my brother. "Klaus?" I whimpered. I hoped he would think of something.

"No, that can't be all you can do!" Klaus shouted. "You know what can happen with breach births! She can't die here!"

"Wait," a soft voice called out. Olaf stepped forward, his one eyebrow pitched up in what appeared to be concern. "They could _both_…die?" I was shocked at Olaf's sudden concern.

Klaus set Sunny down on the bed next to me. "Yes, Count Olaf. She _and_ her baby could die!" Klaus stomped up to Olaf and faced him. "You don't get to be concerned! You could have taken her to the doctor!"

"Klaus!" I shouted.

He didn't hear me. "You could have prevented all of this! They could both die because of you! It's all your fault!" Klaus' nostrils flared as he seemed to grow taller in his anger. "In, fact, _none_ of this would be happening if you hadn't stolen our fortune and _raped_ my sister!" Olaf stepped back in shock.

"Klaus!" I screamed. "That's not helping!" A sudden contraction started creeping through my muscles and I began to cry out.

"That's three minutes!" Klaus exclaimed after looking at his watch.

"I'm going to go get some towels," Larry said as he gestured for Klaus to come back to my side. I breathed out as the contraction began to dissipate after a minute. He stood to leave.

"Clean towels are in the hall closet," I mentioned.

Olaf made a face. "How the hell did you know that?"

I sighed. "I've done your laundry for the past nine months. Of course, I know where everything is," I replied.

"You made the mother of your child do all of your laundry?" Klaus said incredulously to Olaf. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I knew where the towels were because I did them yesterday," I added.

"Koodish!" Sunny babbled, really meaning, "You cold-hearted monster!"

Klaus picked Sunny back up and knelt down to get eye level with me.

"We're going to be right here with you, Violet. No matter what, it's going to be all right," Klaus said as he reached for my hand.

I mostly remember intense pain. I screamed and wailed even as Klaus and Sunny encouraged me.

Surprisingly, Olaf showed interest for the first time. Interest was not, perhaps, the best word, as all he really did was inch closer to the bed with his eyes wide as he watched me labor. Jacquelyn had allowed him to get a bit closer.

An hour after I had started pushing, my hair was plastered to my face as sweat poured from my temples.

Larry glanced up from between my legs. "All right, Violet. Just one last push with your next contraction and it will be over!"

Klaus took my hand. "You can do this!"

My energy had seeped from my body, and I felt as if I had nothing left to give. I lolled my head from side to side. No, Klaus...I can't. I can't anymore…"

"Come on, Violet," Larry said to me.

Klaus shook his head. "Don't give up!"

"Uhboh," Sunny cooed, meaning, "You can do this."

I couldn't answer. I just wanted to slip out of consciousness and let whatever was going to happen, happen.

I suddenly felt a long, bony hand clasp mine. I looked to the side to see Olaf knelt next to the bed, his expression unreadable. Larry and Klaus glared at Olaf as Jacquelyn stepped closer, nearly jabbing the tip of the harpoon gun to the side of his head.

"What are you doing?" I asked him.

He sighed. "Kit and Dewey both told me that her baby wasn't mine. I don't know if it was true or if they said it to push me away."

I clenched my jaw. "You wanted this moment with Kit," I deduced.

Olaf didn't respond; he only held my hand tighter.

I brought my attention back to Larry. "All right," I breathed.

Larry nodded. "Ok, push when I tell you to."

I braced myself and squeezed Olaf's hand. I expected some sort of comment about the tightness of my grip, but Olaf said nothing.

Another contraction started building up, and I screwed my eyes shut in pain.

"All right, push, Violet!"

I bore down as hard as I could, my voice cracking as I screamed.

My scream intermingled with a new shrill voice as I felt a release. I opened my eyes to look at Klaus, whose eyes sparkled brightly as his gaze was turned to Larry. I turned my head to find Larry holding a baby. My baby.

Larry's eyes lit up and he smiled widely. "Congratulations, Violet. It's a girl."

I smiled, tears falling from my eyes. "It's a girl?" I repeated.

"Yeah!" Klaus said, grabbing my arm. "It's a little girl!"

"Oh, my God…" I whispered.

Larry wrapped the infant in a towel and brought her to me. "Here she is," he murmured as he placed the baby in my arms.

Everything else melted away as I stared in awe at this new life that I had grown in me. I studied every aspect of her: she had dark brown wisps of hair that covered her entire head. Her button nose was scrunched up as she cried. I hadn't seen her eyes yet, but I could only imagine that they were bright and clear. Nothing mattered except for her. Not Olaf, not my fortune, not the fact that my siblings and I were orphans…it was only her.

We were able to cut the umbilical cord after everything was cleaned up, and my baby was finally fully a part of the outside world.

When her crying quieted down as a result of my comforting, Klaus cleared his throat. "Violet, she's beautiful," Klaus said to me, breaking me from my daze. He picked up Sunny and sat her down next to me on the bed.

"Loolee!" Sunny babbled. She had asked, "What is her name?"  
I laughed, "I hadn't thought of a name, yet, Sunny." I let my daughter curl her tiny fist around my pinky.

"What about Kit?" Olaf asked.

I jumped, having completely forgotten that Olaf was indeed still there. We all looked to Olaf, whose shiny eyes were red and lined with tears.

"What?" I said.

"Kit. For a name."

I looked at my baby and then back at Olaf. "I…I don't think so."

"Then what about my mother's name—?" he started.

"She doesn't want to hear your suggestions," Klaus snapped.

Olaf set his jaw as his face fell slightly. He made eye contact with me and started to stretch out his arms. "Then can I at least hold her? Please?"

I opened my mouth to respond.

Jacquelyn suddenly forced herself inbetween me and Olaf. He stood and backed up. "Get back, and don't touch her!" Jacquelyn barked.

Larry stood and stepped to Jacquelyn's side. "You don't get to hold that child after what you did to Violet!"

I could see Olaf seething in anger, his fists clenching and unclenching.

"No, please, just let him!" I called.

Jacquelyn and Larry turned around to look at me. "Violet, what are you talking about?" Jacquelyn asked.

"Count Olaf is nothing but a villain!" Klaus added. He placed his hand on my arm.

"I hate him. I'll never be able to forgive him for what he's done to you, me, and Sunny. But this is his daughter, too. After that, I won't let him anywhere near her," I stated.

"You don't know what you're saying, Violet," Klaus dismissed. "What do we do now?"

"We have a taxi that will be ready to take you three to the last safe place that the remaining V.F.D. have designated. You four will be safe there, and you'll have everything you need to take care of the baby," Jacquelyn explained.

Olaf scoffed. "So you're just going to leave me here in this room and hope that I'll stay?"

Jacquelyn took out a pair of handcuffs and handed them to Larry. "No, we're going to cuff you to the radiator and leave you here," she replied.

Larry took the cuffs and affixed Olaf to the radiator underneath the window. Olaf jerked his hand, his movement stopping where the handcuff restrained him.

Jacquelyn lowered the harpoon gun and set it far out of Olaf's reach on the bedside table. She turned to Larry. "Thank you. We'll meet you at the Last Safe Place," she told him.

Larry nodded and turned to leave. "Congratulations, Violet," he told me as he walked out of the room.

Jacquelyn followed suit. "I'm going to let the taxi service. I won't be long, children," she said.

At that, only me, my siblings, my daughter, and Olaf were left.

I heard a sharp clank, and I knew that Olaf was desperately trying to free himself. "Violet, please. Let me hold her," he pleaded.

"No," Klaus said for me.

"I'm asking Violet," he snapped.

Klaus stood tall. "And I'm saying no for her!"

Olaf walked forward as far as the handcuff permitted. He yanked so hard that I was sure he was going to pull his shoulder out of its socket. "Violet, she's my daughter. Let me just see her!"

Klaus suddenly reached down and picked up the small baby, who started wailing louder again. Klaus took Sunny's hand in his and led her out of the room at her pace. "I'm taking Sunny and the baby downstairs to wait for the taxi. We'll come back up for you," Klaus said to me as he left the room.

"You goddamn orphans!" Olaf shouted, his voice cracking. "That's my daughter!"

I sat up gingerly. "Enough, Olaf!" I screamed.

"You!" Olaf growled. "You're the worst of the three! I swear I'll kill all of you when I get out of this!"

I stood slowly, my entire body aching from the trauma it just went through. I grabbed the harpoon gun and pointed it at Olaf. "You're not getting out of this. I can't let you come after her, Olaf," I said.

Olaf's eyes shone with fear for a moment, but after a while, he shook his head and chuckled. "I told you, Violet Baudelaire. I said I would be here for your villainous act."

"It's not villainous if I'm doing it for a noble reason," I reasoned.

He laughed. "If that will help you sleep at night, then keep telling yourself that."

My face screwed up in sadness and pain. "You _raped_ me, Olaf, again and again. You nearly let me die. You killed almost everyone in the theatre and the Hotel Denouement. You threatened to kill Klaus and Sunny. You threatened to kill our _baby_. You think that getting rid of you to make sure no one else ever suffers is villainous?"

Olaf smiled, "No, my sweet little Countess." I grimaced at his nickname for me. "Just the _act_ of killing me." Olaf shrugged. "But I suppose you're right, as you have often proved you are."

I cocked the harpoon gun and backed Olaf against the wall. "I think the good outweighs the bad."

Olaf nodded, pitching his singular eyebrow up. "It does, seeing as I've kept such a great secret from you."

I faltered a bit. "What secret?"

Olaf laughed darkly, "I'm surprised neither you or your little four-eyed brother figured it out yet." He stood tall, apparently proud of whatever it was he did. "_I_ burned down the Baudelaire home."

My eyes widened. "What?"

"Oh, yes. The fire that killed your parents was set by me," Olaf bragged. "I did it to get your precious fortune. And to get back at your idiot parents."

"Our parents aren't idiots!" I screamed.

"'Weren't,'" Olaf corrected me with a smug grin.

I swallowed back tears. "What could they have possibly done to warrant such cruelty?"

"They weren't the noble people you have idealized in your mind, my dear Countess. They were murderers," Olaf said.

I shook my head. "You're wrong!"

He scoffed. "Tell that to my parents."

Stunned silence pierced the room as I put two and two together. "So, you burned down our house in retaliation for our parents orphaning you?"

Olaf rolled his eyes. "No, I burned down your house for revenge."

I didn't even have the patience to correct him this time. "You could have killed me and my siblings! How did you know that we wouldn't die? You didn't!"

"I made sure that you brats were out of the house. Besides," Olaf then began to approach, seemingly oblivious to the harpoon gun trained at his heart and the handcuff that stretched his arm behind him. "I knew that I couldn't kill you, Violet." He locked his gaze with mine, his eyes dark. "How could I destroy such a pretty little girl? Especially one so naive and…" Olaf thought for a moment as he stared at me, "...so _untouched_ by this world?"

Olaf pressed a hand to the side of my face as his thumb brushed across my cheek to wipe away a tear.

"The minute I first saw you, I hated you. I hated you because I wanted you for my own. I needed to _own_ you. I needed you to be mine. The night before I set the fire I watched you sleep. You were so...beautiful. Beatrice made such a perfect little daughter. I wanted to kill you so I didn't have to feel that way about you. I watched you as you slept and I imagined you in my own bed, belonging completely to me. I remember: your lips parted like you were begging for your life. I wondered what it would feel like to kiss you: perhaps soft or inexperienced. I imagined what your little lips would feel like around my cock."

His words brought me back to the present and I steadied my hand on the harpoon gun. "Stop it," I said through gritted teeth.

"I wanted so badly to fuck you and be done with you. That's why I spared you, so I could take you for my own." Olaf spread his hands. "And now, you're of no use to me. I got my fortune, I got _you_; I can go on and forget about you just like that." Olaf snapped his fingers.

"_Shut up_," I seethed.

"But you, Violet Baudelaire? You will always be my Countess. I'll always be the one who ruined you for other men. Your first husband, your first orgasm…" Olaf smirked. "The father of your baby. You'll always have me with you. You'll never escape me. Face it: I was successful—"

In one swift motion, I aimed the harpoon gun at Olaf's thigh as a warning shot and pulled the trigger, sending the harpoon into his leg. He screamed and fell to the ground.

"You could have killed me!" he roared. "You _should_ have killed me when you had the chance!"

"Why would you want me to kill you?" I asked.

He gritted his teeth. "To ruin you entirely. You wouldn't be so noble if you killed a man, would you?" He wrapped his hand around the harpoon, blood soaking around the offending injury. He inhaled sharply and yanked the harpoon out of him with a grunt.

Hot tears streaked down my cheeks. "Why are you so evil?" I asked, venom coating the last word.

Olaf shook his head slightly, his glare refocusing on me. "It's the only thing I'm good at."

"Violet! We need to go! The taxi is here!" Jacquelyn suddenly called from downstairs.

"I can't be like you," I said as I turned to leave.

"Violet, wait," Olaf called desperately. I turned around to see genuine sadness in his eyes. "Before you go…what's our daughter's name?"

I sighed. "_My_ daughter's name is Beatrice." I left the room, and I could have sworn I heard Olaf say, "A good name."

As I left his house for the final time, his tattoo, the ever-watchful eye, found its way to the forefront of my mind. It was as if he could see me leave, even though I was out of his sight.

As I drove through the streets where I grew up, Bea chattered away about anything and everything. She had at least four books piled up next to her in the backseat. She definitely had her uncle's trait.

"Mom, when are we going to be there?" She slumped in her seat and dramatically announced, "I'm certain I'm going to absolutely _die_ if I don't have some birthday cake right now!" A certain group of actors and a miserable play danced at the back of my mind; I suppressed it.

I chuckled and glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "Almost there, sweetie." I looked back at the road, my eyes catching my dark blue ribbon tied around my wrist. "In the meantime, why don't you name ten things you're excited about this year?" I asked my daughter.

"One for every birthday?" she asked.

"Yep."

"Can I think about it for a second?"

I laughed. "Yes, you can."

Bea furrowed her heavy brows. I was eternally grateful that she had not inherited her father's signature feature.

I turned a corner and found myself down a very familiar street. I felt sick to my stomach. Involuntarily, I looked to the right and saw two homes that, unlike all the others on that street, I had never seen before.

I quickly pulled over and shut off the car.

"Mom, why are we stopping?" Bea asked.

"It's OK, baby. I'm only going to be a minute," I replied distractedly.

"Uncle Klaus and Aunt Sunny are going to go on to Briny Beach without us!" Bea whined.

I got out of the car and opened her door. "They won't. They'll wait for us at the trolley stop. Come on, step out with me. It's going to take just a minute. I promise," I assured her. "Just think about those ten things."

I took Bea by the hand and we approached the gate that surrounded the lavish house. I looked through the gate and into the nice yard to see if the owner was there.

"Excuse me," a man's voice called out. I looked down the street to see a rather handsome young man coming toward me.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Do you know the owner of this house?" I called.

The man stopped in front of me and smiled, chuckling. "I should hope I did." He leaned against the fence. "It's my house." He put out his hand. "Quigley Quagmire."

I took his hand and shook it. "Violet." I gestured to my daughter. "This is Bea." She waved.

"Nice to meet you both. So, can I help you with anything?"

"Oh, yes!" I pointed to the house. "It's a lovely house. Have you always been here?"

Quigley looked at the house. "No, I bought a few years ago for me and my brother and sister. My parents died a while back and we bought this house with our inheritance."

"So, it's always been here?" I asked.

Quigley shook his head. "Oh, no. The previous owners built it. The house that was originally on this lot burned down."

I broke out into a cold sweat. "This wasn't the Baudelaire fire, was it?" I led on the questioning.

"No, that was a few blocks down. We actually lived a street or so over from that. _This_ one was about a year after it," Quigley replied, gesturing to the house. "Apparently," Quigley glanced at Bea, who was distracted by a bug on the ground. He lowered his voice. "They found the owner upstairs after they put out the fire, but when they got to him it was too late."

Quigley got closer to me and whispered, "ID'd him through dental records." He stepped back and went back to his normal speaking voice. "The house was too structurally damaged, so the city just tore down the whole house and built a new one."

"So, that was...ten years ago?"

Quigley looked up in thought. "Uh, yeah, I guess so."

I looked at the house, visions of drunken meetings and unibrows flashing through my brain.

"You know, I want to say it was ten years ago, today," Quigley added.

Bea tugged at my hand. "_I_ was born ten years ago today!" she said happily.

"Yeah, baby," I said distractedly. "Yeah, you were." I scratched at the eye tattoo on my inner forearm.


End file.
